#//domestic fluff is my everything bless you

[imujings]

[l.jh] home for new year’s

synopsis. | it’s the new year, and you and jihoon have some cleaning to do.

♯ pairing(s). | lee jihoon x gn!reader, platonic!svt & gn!reader ♯ genre(s). | fluff & established relationship ♯ wc. | 1.8k ♯ warnings. | drunk soonyoung, svt’s chaotic antics, reader is shorter than jihoon, brief shirtless jihoon (yeah this is a warning), domestic fluff …

jay's musings. | hii this is my first fic teehee. i’m soo normal about woozi. tysm @wheeboo for cheering me on with writing c: hoping to write more in the future! <3

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Seungcheol asks, his hands full of various gift bags of different sizes.

He’s standing in the doorway of your flat, his puffy winter coat already on, but he looks ready to sacrifice everything in his arms and on his body at the moment to be elbows deep in dishes. “There’s only two of you,” he continues, his eyes wide with concern. “All together we’d be fourteen, and cleaning would be so much easier.”

A woozy and abrupt buuurp! sounds from behind you. There’s some shuffling, and Jihoon’s grimace is prominent as he leads a giggling Soonyoung to the door. The latter is singing some sort of holiday song, refusing to quiet down despite the exasperated laugh your boyfriend lets out at his antics. Outside, you can hear the warm calls of goodbyes of the others, accompanied by the soft shutting of car doors and the hum of their engines.

Your smile is easygoing, leaning against the foyer’s small closet door. “You’ve already done enough, Cheol,” you insist. “All Jihoon and I have to do is rinse the wine glasses and the food trays. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Plus,” your hand flies to your mouth to hide the smile that appears as Soonyoung dramatically collapses against the front door, his head thudding against the material. “I’m not sure if everyone is truly in… the right state to help.”

As if on cue, your endearingly intoxicated friend begins to belt hysterically about lost love, reaching for Jihoon who’s desperately backing away, his own hands clutching to his sides with laughter. Seungcheol scrunches his eyes shut as if he could magically will away the younger man. The echoes of Soonyoung’s singing ring in the stairwell of your flat’s complex, not going ignored by those who have already left. You swear you can hear Seungkwan’s harmonies and Seokmin’s adlibs from up here.

Bidding a final farewell, you watch as Jihoon and Seungcheol carefully guide your friend down the stairwell to the car that’s waiting down below, Joshua in the driver’s seat to take Soonyoung back to his house. Your eyes meet Jihoon’s, crinkling at the corners when he huffs out that he’ll be right back.

It’s unnervingly quiet when you click the door to your flat shut. Turning to the now empty space, a hushed, relaxed puff leaves your lips. The guys were sober enough—save for Soonyoung, apparently—to help clean up to the best of their abilities. Your TV is still on, some old reruns of a sitcom droning on in the background as you finish straightening up the throws on the couch. A soft, cream tufted pillow lays fallen from its place on the lovechair, where only hours before Wonwoo had been lying lazily with Jeonghan against him, the two watching with amused eyes at Seungkwan and Chan’s rap battle. Picking it up, you roll your eyes at finding a crumpled napkin filled with messy tally marks underneath. Ah. Jun’s record of how many times Hansol had goose-laughed during the night.

Giggles bubble out of your mouth before you can stop them. You miss them all already.

Padding softly to the kitchen, you thank the stars that your friends were kind enough to assist in cleaning up. You vaguely remember Mingyu laying the food trays in the sink and stacking their respective warmers away, blessing him a safe drive home and a charger that works without having to angle it weirdly. Fourteen wine glasses ready to be washed were neatly tucked on the counter next to the trays. Luck was on your side, you suppose.

Rolling up the sleeves of your sweater, you let autopilot take over, barely tuning in to hear the sound of the front door unlocking and clinking shut again.

You feel him before you see him and smile.

Jihoon's arms snake around your waist as you turn on the faucet and begin to scrub the glasses. You feel his forehead rest in the space between your shoulder blades, letting the vibration of his soft groan flow through you.

“I am never letting you convince me to host a get-together ever again,” he complains.

There’s no real threat to his words. “You enjoyed it,” you reply with a hum, not as a question but as a statement.

The rinsed wine glasses are placed onto the drying mat upside-down. He pauses, before letting go of your waist and reaching for the towel that rests on the handle of the dishwasher. As he starts to dry off the wine glasses, his hip bumps against yours good-naturedly. “It’s a miracle they didn’t leave the place a mess.”

It’s silent for a little. You take this time to let your mind wander yet again, your gaze flitting to your boyfriend every now and then. You’ve always loved this about Jihoon—his pure dedication to a task. There’s a rawness and undoubted authenticity to his movements, his tongue poking out a little in concentration as he wipes the glasses dry.

Shaking your hands to rid them of water, you giggle as you pass him by to your next chore. You can’t help it, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, laughing louder when his cheeks warm to that familiar shade of cherry that you adore.

However, your mood solemns rather fast. Moving to the counter, you frown as you stare down at the mugs, and then up at the top cupboard shelf. Your gaze drops back down to the cups.

“Ji,” you sigh. “Were these mugs from the top shelf or below?”

“The top shelf,” Jihoon answers easily.

Your frown deepens. You stand fruitlessly on your tiptoes, barely being able to place the mug on the top shelf without it falling back over the side.

“I think I’m too short to reach it.”

He doesn’t even look over from his new location of wiping down the dinner table, humming softly. His tone isn’t unkind when he responds. “Yeah, I know. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

You two work in tandem, sometimes slipping in light conversation about new gossip the two of you had attained from the party. There’s a tiredness to your movements that’s matched by the man, but you both easily sidestep one another when moving about in the kitchen, picking up where the other left off in a task.

When you’re done, Jihoon looks just about ready to topple over. “I'm never doing this again,” he mutters, eyeing the clock on the wall who’s hands are about to strike twelve and three.

You lean against him and press another soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. “This is the second time you’ve said this now. We don’t have to if you really don’t wanna, but I think you had more fun than you’re letting on.”

Preening, Jihoon gladly leans into your touch, his tone softening. “Still… maybe not next year. We just need a bigger place; our flat is too small to have twelve guests. Plus us.”

Something in you warms at the thought of moving out of your tiny place and into a proper house, a proper home, with Jihoon. Maybe it’s the wine Minghao had convinced you to try (and then had a good few more glasses of, but you would never admit that to him), but as you make a noise of agreement, you try and fail to imagine a home without Jihoon. Home is more than where you sleep for the night, you muse. It’s his toothbrush next to yours on the bathroom sink counter. It’s his hoodies hanging neatly next to your sweaters in your bedroom closet. It’s him, calling your name in that sweet lilt of his, before planting an equally sweet kiss on your lips. Home is Jihoon.

You brush hair out of your eyes, and before you know it, you’re moving together towards your shared room. You call dibs on washing up first, to which Jihoon rolls his eyes and scoffs before pushing you lightly into the unlit space.

“One day,” you murmur as you come out of the bathroom and sit on the edge of the bed, yawning and watching him lazily change into comfier clothes. “One day we’ll have our own place. And a cat, too.”

Jihoon glances back at you with amusement in his eyes, his face relaxed, the tension in his shoulders releasing. He tosses you a shirt of his that lands awkwardly in your lap before disappearing into the bathroom. Squirming out of your clothes and into what you argue is a much more comfortable shirt, you breathe in his unmistakable scent and scroll through your phone, exhaustion starting to creep up on you.

Your eyes flicker up to your boyfriend when he re-emerges, cheeks heating at his lack of shirt, hair disheveled from washing his face. You’ll never get used to it, no matter how many nights you spend together. His insistence of sleeping without a shirt never ended in your complaints, but the sight still left you a little dry-mouthed, swallowing thickly as you turn your phone off and tug the blanket over your tired form. The mattress dips below Jihoon’s knee as he crawls into the bed, slotting against you perfectly. His skin is pleasantly warm.

“Thank you for helping me clean up,” you brush your nose against his and smile.

Jihoon’s breath tingles lightly against your cheek, his tone sluggish as he mumbles against your skin. The only light on now is the one from your digital alarm clock, emitting a tender glow into the room that has you sighing contentedly.

“Why wouldn’t I help? I hosted it, too.”

“I know,” you whisper back playfully, going to tuck your face into the crook of his neck. “And I appreciate you. You did well today.”

He knows the hidden meaning behind your words. And I hope you know you mean the world to me. I love you.

The heater clicks on, warm air beginning to blow from the vents in the corners of your shared bedroom. There’s a comfortable lull, sleep pressing you gently in waves, coaxing you to finally disappear under the surface of reality and into the dream world below. All you can focus on is the slow of Jihoon’s breath, his touch inviting, longing, and full of love. Your Jihoon. Your home.

“You did well today, too. Get some sleep,” he kisses your hair, your mind already surrendering to the bliss that sleep is.

I love you, too. Please love yourself the way I love you.

[cheonstapes]

miguel o'hara stars in... 'DOMESTIC BLISS' (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

a/n~ i physically cannot write a fic about my favs w/o getting horny mid way through sorry ;( i just want miguel to wrap me up and brush my hair and hold me tight---- NNNNNNNNNNH (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

summary; miguel really likes your thighs…and how his cock looks between them.

wc; 700+

pairings; miguel o'hara x fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!, fluff, miguel and reader being cutesy, consensual somnophilia, thigh-fuckin, lil bit of blood, cummin inside, basically a breeding kink cause i said so, softdom! miguel, miguel being pussy whipped, sleepy sex, cumplay?, n e ways...not proofread - is one in the mornin

miguel loved nights like this. both of you wrapped up in warm, fluffy robes, and matching slippers - just enjoying each other’s company. 

“babe, grab my headband for me please?” 

walking over to where you were in the bathroom, he looks at your beautiful face through the mirror, sliding the cute headband on your head. “here, my love.” he trails a hand down your arm, wrapping it around your waist and he pulls you closer into him, your body pressed tightly against his rock solid chest. he doesn’t loosen his grip on you as you lean forward to wash your face, instead gripping your hips to hold you steady.

he still doesn’t let go of you when you walk over to your shared bed, tucking you under the covers and bringing you as close as he could to him. his face rested in the crook of your neck, lips pressing soft kisses against your warm skin. he really was the luckiest man in the world, blessed with this angel in front of him. his hands gently traced the curves of your body, the touch meant to be soothing but it was anything but for the throbbing he felt under the sheets.

he could hear you snoring quietly, the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the slenderness of your collarbones that were faintly littered with love bites. everything about you was just so perfect. especially those thighs of yours. those sexy, juicy, thighs - pressing against his. palming at your ass, he pulls you closer, if that was even possible - fingers moving to dip into your panti- oh, fuck, you weren’t wearing any.

this new revelation led to him fucking his thick cock through the tightness of your thighs, nudging your little clit with every thrust. he whimpers, actually whimpers, at the feeling, a sound he’d take to the grave - if you were awake right now, you would not let him live that down. but that didn’t matter right now, not when he was so close to painting those pretty thighs with his cum. or actually, why waste it? maybe he should just cum inside of you. it would save cleaning up in the morning, plus - you smelt so delicious after your shower, it’d be a shame to wash away that scent and his cum.

he angles his hips upwards, one hand on yours waist and the other keeping your head up as you sleep - the leaky tip of his cock pressing against your tight pussy. he doesn’t want to disturb your sleep, especially since you’re so cute when you sleep, so he only pushes the tip in - a faint pop! echoing through the room as he slips inside of you. “fuck, baby, s-such a tight pussy - isn’t she? looks like ‘m gonna have to stretch her out some more, hm?” soft whispers fall upon deaf ears, chuckling silently to himself as the sounds of your snoring get louder. 

the constant suctioning on his tip was driving him mad, brows furrowed tightly as he threw his head back against the plush pillows. biting his lips so hard he draws blood, the ruby liquid running down his neck as he stares down at his cock disappearing between your thighs - thighs that we’re starting to…move? you seemed to be regaining some sort of consciousness, small breathy moans left your plump lips, eyes blinking open as you turned to look at him. 

he was so caught up in your pussy, he didn’t even register your hand coming to push him deeper into your quivering cunt. your soft hand wrapping around him set him off, his hot, sticky, cum shooting straight against your womb as you take him all the way to the base. the other hand rests on his lower stomach running along the trail of hair that you love oh, so much - fucking yourself on his cock whilst he shoots white ropes along your walls.

“p-princess- mmph, shit- didn’t…i didn’t mean to wake you.” he really means that, he truly didn’t want to ruin your beauty sleep - but he couldn’t help but rub tight, slow, circles on your sticky clit, speaking lowly into your ear. “go back to sleep, beautiful, papí will take care of you, ‘kay?”

i mean shit, back to sleep we go! 

-ONE CHANCE, JST ONE CHANCE MIGUEL

[connorsui]

𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑨𝒓𝒆

John Price x Wife! Reader

Synopsis: Price, a skilled soldier who has lived most of his life by a strict routine, finds solace in the quiet, early mornings spent with you, his wife.

Genre/ warnings: domestic, slice of life, price lowkey holding you hostage, soft moments in ur marriage, fluff, no warnings this house has been blessed by the lord

Note: I need a man like price to keep me in bed for longer

John Price was no stranger to early mornings. Years of military life had ingrained the habit deep into his bones. But these days, it wasn’t duty that made him rise with the sun—it was you.

The soft light of dawn filtered into the room, gently waking you from sleep. You carefully slipped out of bed, intent on starting the day quietly. But before you could take more than a few steps, you felt a warm, familiar hand slide around your waist, pulling you back.

“Stay here, luv ” John’s voice, still thick with sleep, rumbled against your ear.

“I was just going to make us some coffee,” you whispered, but he had already coaxed you back into the bed, his strong arms enveloping you from behind.

“Coffee can wait,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Stay here with me a little longer.”

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into his embrace. The bed was warm, and his presence was comforting. He shifted slightly, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against your back.

Instead of attempting to get out of bed again, you decided to give in to the quiet morning. You turned to face him, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “You’re clingy this morning,” you teased, though you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed it.

“Just making sure you don’t run off,” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. “Can’t have you escaping before I’m ready to face the day.”

“You make it sound like I’m planning a great escape,” you chuckled, tracing lazy circles on his chest.

“Not on my watch,” he said, his tone half-joking, half-serious. He pulled you closer, his hand running down the length of your back. “I’m holding you hostage in this bed for at least another hour.”

“And what’s your plan to keep me here?” you asked, eyebrows raised in mock challenge.

John smirked, his hand moving to your hip, squeezing gently. “... I’ve got a few ideas,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “But first, I think I’ll just enjoy having you close.”

The two of you settled back into the pillows, the early morning light casting soft shadows across the room. You let out a contented sigh as you nestled against him, feeling his heartbeat steady under your ear.

Outside, the world was starting to wake, but here in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, time seemed to stand still. There was no rush to get up, no urgent need to start the day. All that mattered was the warmth of John’s arms around you and the peaceful stillness you rarely got to share.

“Guess everything else can wait,” you murmured, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift, knowing that as long as you were with him, you were exactly where you needed to be.

It's like I'm chained to the bed ...but it's his aura instead ✨️

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLI)

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for a bit of Christmas fluff!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2641

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Mistletoe

Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, Stooped in the still and shadowy air Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

Walter de la Mare

“In the lane, snow is glistening… a beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight…”

You smiled at the sound, stopping your movement to listen to Andrew’s rich voice while he sang mindlessly to the tune you had heard on the radio earlier that day. You were left with wrapping paper only half-folded over your gift for Andrew’s mother.

You would spend Christmas with his family, travelling all the way back to Bray for the occasion. It was your first time with his extended family, but you already knew things would go well. You were growing close to Andrew’s parents and brother, had met several of his uncles and aunts already as well, and everything had happened smoothly. You weren’t so nervous this time around. You were simply… happy.

On the 25th, there was a gathering with some friends planned. You had invited Colm and Siobhán as well as Andrew’s close friends. You couldn’t wait for that too, for your best friend to finally be including in the family you were joining. Next week, it would Andrew would blend perfectly in your own little tribe, the way he always did, to celebrate the coming of a new year and all the promises it withheld.

“… walking in the winter wonderland…”

Andrew looked up at you now, noticing your pause, that you were lost in thoughts. He tilted his head a little at the sight, and your heart was filled with warmth at the domesticity of it all… wrapping presents in his living room, with Elwood playing with one of the toys you had bought for him nearby, the glow of the Christmas tree you had decorated together, and Andrew looking warm and cozy with a messy bun, his glasses, his casual jumper…

“You’re okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, a tender smile growing on your lips.

“What got you lost in thought like that?”

“Hmmm… I think I’m gonna make some hot cocoa.”

“Oh! Can I have one?”

“Of course, baby.”

You resumed your wrapping, carefully folded the paper around the painting supplies you had bought for Raine.

“I’m really happy you’re coming for Christmas, you know?” Andrew let out in a dreamy sigh. “I’m glad we can spend the holidays together.”

“I’m glad you invited me. Besides, I could never pass on an opportunity to question John about more humiliating stories about you.”

You both laughed, bright, solar, carefree.

“Perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea, then… but we’ll see Siobhan tomorrow! Which means I get all the juicy stories about my brilliant girlfriend getting trollied while in college…”

“I would like to protest, but it’s a fair payback, and I’m too entertained by your family stories to pass on them.”

You tried to think back of a time before Andrew when you had been as happy, as safe, as yourself than during that simple, quiet afternoon. You couldn’t…

“We need to leave early tomorrow morning,” Andrew went on. “There will be some traffic, and we must get there before noon to help preparing for the feast!”

“I can drive, if you’d like,” you offered. “You can sleep a bit more in the car then.”

“Or I could drive so you can sleep in the car.”

“You could. But you’re the night owl here, who won’t be asleep before 1 a.m. no matter what…”

“Touché,” he chuckled.

“I’ll drive. And I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

“Sure.”

“I’d love to watch a Christmas movie before bed, though. One of the disgustingly cute ones!”

He chuckled, gave you tender smile and a roll of his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you’d like.”

You thought about all your clothes folded with his, in his closet. About all his clothes fitting perfectly in your closet. How there were pictures of the two of you in both your flats, how his smiling face was your lockscreen now, how on your phone he was now called Honey with a red heart next to it to match how he owned yours now.

Sometimes you worried about being betrayed again, about your happiness ending… but then you looked up at him again, caught his hazel eyes with yours and read the love hidden in them. And you knew everything would be fine, somehow.

“Honey?” you called in a whisper.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can you keep on singing?”

He blushed, but couldn’t refrain his grin. And then his voice was back, warm and deep, starting over again.

“Sleigh bells ring, aren’t you listening...”

“Maggie, calm down!”

Andrew was laughing at his tiny cousin’s daughter struggling to put on her coat on her own. The three-years-old was stubborn, and getting frustrated.

Patiently, he crouched by her side, held the coat so she could aim her tiny fist and slip her arm in her sleeve. He pulled up the zipper, readjusted her beanie, helped her with her gloves.

Christ, how could you fall even more in love with him?

“Alright, you’re all set for the snow.”

The little girl jumped up and down excitedly.

“We’re going in the snow!”

“Yes, we are.”

“Can we make a snowman?”

“Of course! We have to make one!”

The girl’s mother, Helen, hurried in the room, a baby in her arms.

“Oh… thanks, Andy!”

He merely smiled, bending to hold the child’s hand. And then he turned to you.

“You’re coming, love?”

He held out his free hand for you, and you easily slipped your fingers in his palm, without thinking, an offering you so easily made every time.

“Alright, we’re going to enjoy the snow, and then we’ll get ready for games!” Helen told her daughter, her young baby boy in her arms.

Meanwhile, John was helping his father cross the hall, his mother in tow, chatting with her sister.

It was a little overwhelming. As one of Andrew’s uncle was starting a conversation with you, it felt overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people, people Andrew loved dearly. It was going well, though. You weren’t surprised to find that people longed to make you feel welcomed, that Andrew was showering you with affection, something proud shining through his smile every time he introduced you to someone new.

The cold bit at your cheeks as you stepped outside the house, hurrying in the garden to help the children build their snowman. You swore revenge when Andrew threw a snowball at you, and maybe it was your terrible aim making you hit one of the cousins instead of your boyfriend that started the fight. You weren’t sure, maybe it was simply one of the children. No matter who started it, you couldn’t stop laughing as you watched Andrew falling over in the snow, and then being showered with snowballs by all the adults present.

When he sat up again, his hair and beard were white with snow.

“So, that’s what you’ll look like when you’re old,” you laughed, offering him an open hand to help him stand again.

“You don’t like my impersonation of Santa?”

“You’re a little skinny, but I’ll give you a B for the effort.”

“How generous, ma’am…”

He gave you a crooked smile, and despite the silliness of the situation, you felt your heart stumbling in your chest at his innuendo.

“Don’t start! We’re with your family!” you admonished in a whisper.

He laughed, let you help him back to his feet. You brushed some snow off him.

“You need to get dry, or you’ll catch your death.”

“I like it when you do that.”

“Do what, honey?”

“Get all… worried about me. When you take care of me.”

You rolled your eyes, but still felt your chest grow warm at his words.

“Well… it’s only fair of me, cause you take really good care of me, too.”

He bent to peck your lips a couple of times, but before he could hold you in his arms again, he was shivering.

The rest of his family was going back to the house anyway, as Maggie was now yelling in excitement.

“GAMES!”

Dinner had turned into quiet conversations. Sitting by your side, Andrew was chatting and laughing with his favourite cousins, while his mother and aunts were busy luring you into the next yearly family gathering.

“We just come together and spend a nice day catching up!” Raine explained.

“Aside from Christmas, it’s the one time of the year when everyone is gathered and we can all be together,” her sister nodded. “You need to come to the next one… we usually plan these around May or June.”

Andrew’s heart was filled with happiness and love as he caught your answer.

“I’d love to,” you nodded.

“And then you need to come every year!” Raine warned you, and you nodded.

“Of course, I’d love to come.”

Andrew’s favourite aunt reached for your hand.

“We like you a lot. You’re a very nice girl, very smart… you and Andy have our blessing.”

Your answer came in an emotional breath.

“Thank you…”

“OI! EVERYONE UP! IT’S NOT EVEN MIDNIGHT AND EVERYBODY’S BORING!”

The sudden voice of his uncle Danny came booming into the living room. Before anyone could argue, he was putting on some music, and soon, most people were dancing.

Not Andrew, of course. He was everything but a dancer, that was not his thing, and he didn’t want to go through any kind of humiliation. Especially not in front of his cousins, who would make sure to remind him of his glorious missteps until his death…

You snuggled closer to him on the couch, wrapping your arm around his, locking your elbow with his.

“Are you okay, my darling?” he asked, voice tender as he dropped a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Yeah… just getting tired.”

“It’ll soon be midnight.”

“Hmm…”

“Are you having a good time? You’re not too overwhelmed?”

“I’m having a really good time. Your family is very nice. Okay, perhaps Finn is a little… boring…”

“He could put any insomniac to sleep in two minutes. Tops.”

You both laughed. But then, the song that was played changed, and he didn’t like the look in your eyes as you looked up at him… he didn’t like it one bit…

“Andy! Come and dance with me!”

“I don’t dance, love…”

“Come on! Or else I’ll have to dance with another lad…”

He rolled his eyes.

“Terrifying thought.”

“Please… please… It’s Christmas… do this for me…”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, and God, he couldn’t resist you. He simply couldn’t…

“Alright, alright…” he grumbled, faking annoyance when he didn’t mind, really. Dancing with you meant being near you, and he welcomed any occasion to be close to you.

You were already singing along to Last Christmas when you took his hands in yours and pulled him into a silly, carefree dance. Your laughter warmed him more than the sun in the heat of summer, the way you looked at him with so much love made him believe in everything good in this world all over again… did you know how much he loved you? How happy you made him? How much better his life was now that you were in it?

“Babe… about that family gathering in spring…”

“Yeah?” you asked, before you would twirl, and land back in his arms with a giggle that spread to his own lips.

“I… I would love for you to come. I… I really want you to come. But if you’re not comfortable, if you don’t want to, I’d understand…”

“I want to come, baby. I want to come.”

You exchanged a pair of bright grins.

“Grand… that’s grand, like…”

He cleared his throat, tried to hide the wave of affection that overtook his senses, made his brain all fuzzy with a happy static.

He sang along too when the next chorus came, laughing at your silly dance and your over-excited singing. You seemed so happy… He was so happy…

“This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special…”

Oh, Andrew had indeed given his heart to someone special, this time around. Someone extraordinary…

Andrew drove you both back to Dublin the next day. In the trunk of his car rested the two piles of books you had offered each other for Christmas. Books you had been excited to read, you were surprised at how accurate his selection had been. But then again, why were you so surprised? Andrew listened.

Your friends and Andrew’s finally arrived. You were glad to see Alex again, he had been off to the West Coast for a few weeks because of work, while you were growing accustomed to spending more time with him. It felt strange to have him away for too long, Andrew and him were too close for that.

“So… what kinds of terrible things has this one done while I was away?” Alex asked you, sipping on a beer, sitting next to you on Andrew’s sofa.

Andrew merely rolled his eyes.

“Nothing too outrageous, I’m afraid,” you laughed. “What about you? What outrageous things have you been up to?”

“Oh… the usual. A bit of drinking, a lot of bass guitar… a lot of working.”

“You’re no craic.”

“Neither are you, Pr. Boring Job.”

“What about your love life? Is it still the Sahara Desert?”

“How dare you? Have you looked at what you settled for?” he asked, nodding towards Andrew, who laughed good-heartedly.

“Oh… you mean, the hottest and smartest guy in the room?”

Andrew gave his friend a bright smirk.

“You were saying, mate?” he teased, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t mind him, he’s deflecting the question,” you reassured your boyfriend, before focusing on Alex again.

He laughed, admitted defeat.

“Yeah… nothing serious happened, at least.”

“You know what your problem is? I think you’re a romantic at heart.”

“Me? You’re the one dating the biggest sap ever born on this island!”

“I think you want to really fall in love before it becoming serious enough to actually date. That’s why you’re always single.”

“Or maybe it’s because of my shitty ex.”

“Hmm… that too,” you nodded, making all three of you laugh. “But you know… maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not looking for love anyway, you’d be wasting your time.”

“If love came when we feel ready, it would be a lot easier than it actually is.”

“You’re talking from experience?” Alex asked, nudging his best friend, who merely shoved him away playfully.

You were about to fight back, when the door rang, and you were too excited to carry on that conversation. Instead, you jumped to your feet, ran to the front door. The second Siobhán saw you, she jumped into your arms.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, it’s been too long!” she complained.

“Yeah, it has… Come on in! I’ll get you a beer.”

“God, I need that… the traffic was awful around Dublin…”

You offered her a drink, introduced her to your friends gathered in Andrew’s apartment, then you invited her to take a seat with you, Andrew and Alex.

“This is Alex, by the way,” you indicated as your friend sat down. “Andy’s best friend.”

They greeted each other, Siobhán warm and Alex a little shy.

But you looked around the room, caught Colm deep in conversation with Rory and his wife, looked at how your world and Andrew’s blended beautifully together. You were a little nervous, but your best friend was no exception, and she fitted into your new bubble of love perfectly. You were surprised at how well she and Alex were getting along, both of them seeming to silently agree to team up to tease you and Andrew endlessly.

When Andrew took your hand in his, gave you a goofy grin, you felt so loved, in this place you called a home, with these people who loved you as much as you loved them.

[diorkyeom]

THE @diorkyeom / @fairyhaos AO3 FIC REC LIST: PART 2

masterlist. part one. part two. part three.

part two of all the ao3 fics that i've read for seventeen which i've loved, kudosed, and proceeded to download so i'll always have with me. part one was kinda long so i thought it would be better if i just made a 2nd post instead of adding on to it ^^

(list is in order of authors!)

Of Milkshakes, Onesies and Miniature Roses - coupdetart

soonhoon, uni au, oneshot

soonyoung likes small and cute things. jihoon is small and cute. and that's it, that's the entirety of this adorable fic. pls this fic had me grinning so hard omg everything is literally soooo adorable and jihoon is so tsundere but you can already tell that he's so fond of soonyoung and his antics and they're just very very sweet

Know Ya Boo - jeosheo

meanie, non-idols, fluff, getting together, oneshot

jeosheo and lunahui are two of theeeee best meanie writers that ive like. ever seen. this fic made me laugh and it made me internally cry and it's soooo so lovely and funny and domestic and honest to god. the entire attraction of this ship is the way they realise their feelings and this fic does it soo well

Through The Wall - kaiteki

soonhoon, apartment neighbors, chaptered (but short)

hnnnngggh never ever ever EVER gonna get tired of people characterising soonhoon's relationship not as an antagonistic, forever-enemies one but as one of mutual respect and muted adoration. pls a neighbours to lovers thats actually simply Adorable is hard to come by but this is sooo good

right-handed normativity - kyeomizt

meanie, canon au, oneshot

dudeeeee pls it's just sooo soft and domestic and funny and so so so them. the way they act like a couple almost instinctively, like it's coded into their dna to just love each other like that???? peak meanie things actually.

hell yeah, hyung! - orphan_account

jeongcheol, canon au, coming out, oneshot

idk jeongcheol has never been My Thing but the way that jeonghan is characterised? with his clear head and clear thoughts and you can clearly see his entire thought process as he goes through things... wow. it's really good. i also love how much time he takes to think things through and really find out what he's feeling. vv nice fic tbh, that's all :]

Rollercoaster - orphan_account

soonhoon, non-idols au, fake dating, oneshot

read the summary, screamed internally. then began reading the fic and screamed internally even more. pls the characterisation???? the pining???? the suppressed feelings and fAKE DATING?????? absolute gold i swear pls pls read this it's so cute

Found In Translation - naegahosh

verkwan, fluff, light angst, twoshot

holy shiiiiittttttt the seungkwan characterisation is ON POINT and i LOVE when people manage to get his melodrama and also his softness down and this fic has it SO GOOD. the way hansol is just so so so gentle and caring with seungkwan and it's so OBVIOUS that he's already so in love with him from the start :(((

can't sleep (without your smile) - pocketpastel

seoksoo + verkwan, snow white au, sleeping beauty au, chaptered

i love cute little fairytale-twist aus!!!! ive (kinda) written one of my own too hehe and it's always just soooo fun to do. and read as well! i love the seoksoo dynamic and also verkwan with their little one-sided rivals to lovers??? gorgeous. very very sweet.

my love only amounts to this - shiningshua

seoksoo, canon au, soulmates, oneshot

i think i said this before but i rarely read seoksoo bc honestly. their dynamic and characterisation is something that is rlly hard to get right but this is sooo soft. joshua loving it when seokmin calls him "shua hyung"? their softness? the way they were in love with each other the entire time? the epitome of the seoksoo dynamic actually.

Hit Different - thanku4urlove

verkwan, est. relationship, canon au, oneshot

bro. bro buff vernon is soooo brainrot worthy actually and honestly i just feel so blessed that there's an ENTIRE FIC centered around it. with verkwan too like????? best thing in the entire world. started giggling internally at the ending like OH MYGODHFUDHS it's soooo heart-flutteringly good.

wonwoo & his very non-imaginary boyfriend - wonderscape

meanie, established relationship, oneshot

honestly. peak meanie behaviour is wonwoo having a hot-as-fuck boyfriend and no one believing that they're actually dating until they see mingyu in person. the 96 liner dynamic is so silly and so funny to me because they're all just so annoying and goofy in their own way and i love the way it's portrayed in this fic too

[scarletgray]

FLUFFIEST SOUKOKU FIC RECS!!

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ these are the most tooth-rotting, cavity making, diabetes giving, disgustingly sweet soukoku fics you will ever read. I'm talking domestic fluff I'm talking hand holding, aggressive cuddling if you will. There are forehead kisses nose kisses even. Chuuya calls dazai honey it's absolutely revolting. Read at your own risk.

I Think Of You In Multiple Trains of Thought by Anonymous (search by title)

Train Conversations by KarmicMayhem

Wet Bandages by StartshipDancer

Quality Time by Kit_Cosmic

i love you (i love you i love you i love you) by communist_sasuke

glasses and cuddles by dearkdj

Admit Defeat by StarshipDancer

Seaweed Crackers by StarshipDancer

Kiss Kiss Fall Asleep by StarshipDancer (can you tell i love her)

Home Alone (With You) by calmlb

Wish in one hand by forest_raccoon

after thirteen summers (still with you) by moonlitsorrows

partners by setosdarkness (Y'ALL KNOW I LOVE THIS ONE)

coffee tastes best tall and pretty, just like you by xxalwayssofia

i like you (derogatory) by communist_sasuke

go where you are loved by lunarumbra

we'll take it easy by kiroiimye

wait for me in the morning by kiroiimye

i want you (bless my soul) by secondwind (mizore)

Chuunyaa's Pawsitively Catastrophic Day by forest_raccoon

Family by setosdarkness

tie our hearts together by setosdarkness

the soukoku and the puppy by xxalwayssofia (don't forget to read the sequel linked in the fic!)

Ne Chuuya, won't you marry me? by xxalwayssofia

traduire, avec amour by xxalwayssofia (now listen just go read everything by this author they're ALL fluff the real ceo of skk married couple)

Partners in Love by meyllah

Morning Cuddles (And Perhaps A Few Kisses?) by sssoukoku

the taste of love by cherryousama (this is a crack fluff fic but ong i love it so much)

ChuuChuu Needs Nappy Time by EcchiSenpai

Blush by that_one_Author

Under a Watchful Eye by calmlb

promise rings & what that means by lesbianhowlpendragon

keep us close by setosdarkness

an exercise in kissing by setosdarkness

Something Super Sweet by moonlitgardens

[manikas-whims]

Xavier — Floral Blessing 🔖 | thoughts

THIS HAS BECOME ONE OF MY FAVORITE XAVIER 5 STAR CARDS, ALONG WITH PRECIOUS BONFIRE AND 21 DAYS.

I love fluff and romance. And this card was all about that growing intimacy and expression of feelings.

AND I LOVE THE CALLBACKS IN THIS CARD. THERE'S JUST SO MANY 🥺 THAT CONNECT TO XAVIER'S LORE, AND ADD TO IT.

i made a separate post about them, you can see HERE if you want

⚠️ SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️

This whole moment where Xavier places his hand over MC's in order to teach her calligraphy is so sweet and intimate.

Every other flower goddess was third wheeling so bad 😭

XAVIER ALWAYS HOLDS A POSITION OF AUTHORITY, NO MATTER THE ERA.

And the way he got adopted by this rich, mansion owner merely due to his calligraphy skills??? He really is good at anything he tries 😌✨

The way MC doesn't want anyone to misunderstand her (as Flower Goddess) relationship with the Young Master.

Meanwhile Xavier does not give a fuck 😂 boldly claiming she holds a special place in his heart 🥹

Xavier saying “guess everyone knows now” whilst cheekily leaning against the wall is so teen boyish of him 🤭

Xavier and MC attending classes together is such a sweet callback to Xavier's 3rd Anecdote where Him and MC on Philos attend classes together 🥹

He may not be as good as Rafayel but I would love to have Xavier's doodles of me 🫶

I love these moments of casual intimacy ♡ sprinkled throughout this card.

the act of MC anxiously grabbing Xavier's arm, and Xavier taking her hand in his own reflect on how far they've come in terms of their relationship in our present timeline.. it's almost as if they're together (in a relationship).

XAVIER WILL NOT MISS ANY OPPORTUNITY 🤭

He sees an opening (the sour tasting flower cake) and attacks, immediately sneaking a kiss 🤭

And he's so chill about it too. I love him sm y'all ♡

THEIR CONVERSATION ABOUT HOMESICKNESS

I love that though not directly but he admits that his home is far in the distance..

BUT!

For Xavier home is also about a sense of belonging and here he clearly states that MC being by his side is enough i.e. MC IS HIS HOME 😭❤️

Xavier laying his head in MC's lap and MC gently massaging his forehead.. THEY'RE SO MARRIED!

The casual domesticity and intimacy in this card means everything to me ��🤌

Another moment I really loved was MC's hair getting tangled in the hairpin and Xavier helping untangle it..

See it's really these simple gestures that are treated as ordinary but are actually the foundation of a beautiful relationship. And I love that this card was just a treasure trove of these tiny moments 🥺

MC being at peace whilst dancing because she knows that amongst the crowd, there's someone whose eyes are only on her (and no other flower goddess)

THAT'S A LOYAL MAN. A MAN COMPLETELY SMITTEN BY HIS GIRL 😌

Finally they go to make wishes together!

Xavier lifting us up in his arms is like a cherry on top after all those casually intimate moments throughout this card..😩🤌

And we know what happens here 🤭

Idk..if I were in MC's place, then his hand on the back of my thigh would've sent shivers.. I'd be ticklish and flustered, trying to hold my breath

the way his face is bent so close, probably his warm breath tickling her skin 😩

He definitely thought about lowering his lips and planting a kiss right on that spot..

But resisted the urge and pulled away at the last moment 🤭

Now when it's time to reward the Gem (protocore), I love how Xavier gently unties MC's mask and his eyes just never waver from her's 🥺

From Xavier's 3rd Anecdote

When the Shooting Stars fall

“According to the First Law of Cosmic Attraction, when a person unwittingly looks at someone, there's a 98.8% chance it's because he's looking at you too.”

And we can see how significant it is for Xavier that we hold him with as much regard in our eyes, as does he to us 🥺

And of course..

It's been hammered into our minds over and over, with every card..that the most important thing for Xavier is his time spent together with MC. And the way MC lights up his world..he wants to return that..he wants to be equally (if not more) significant in MC's life..

Thus, the card ends with these beautiful words from Xavier, about him wanting to be our sanctuary, our safe haven until the end of time 🥺

[fauustic]

don't cry, my treasure.

soft miguel o'hara x gender-neutral reader drabble

had to write this and get it out of my brain before i post my miguel series..

summary: you accidentally stir miguel awake while you're dealing with insomnia, he decides to take care of you. fluff. comfort.

warnings: brief mentions of previous injuries (fighting crime is serious business!!), just miguel being a silly little thing.. i love sleepy miguel sm.

words: 3k

Sleep came in waves, pushing against the lid of your eyes and taking you away in its current just to spit you back out into reality.

You were always tired, you've realized as you stretched your aching bones and rubbed your swollen cheek– spider suit catching your eye as it was thrown haphazardly on your bedside chair like an afterthought. 

And nightmares, nightmares kept you up like a stalker always two steps behind– waiting, preying on your frazzled mind like a parasite constantly leeching off your sanity. So here you were, grasping at the sleeveless sleep-shirt as it clamped onto your sweat-sleek stomach like a second skin.

Shallow breaths escaped from your trembling lips like you were just dumped into a pool of ice-cold water, spider senses lit aflame with the abrupt, irrational fear stabbed through your heart.

You tried to stay quiet, you didn't want to be any more of a burden when you knew how much your lover struggled through insomniac nights as well– he had just gotten back from countless hours stove away in his dim and dark lab after a few days of power naps and caffeine. Miguel was downright exhausted, snores meeting your ears whenever you'd wake up from a dark turn in the dreams you do have.

But this time was different, as you shied away from his back that you were latched onto like a koala. Your skin peeled off his, and if you were with anyone else you would have thought it was gross. But Miguel loves closeness, the affection you just can't help but give and he takes and takes like a starved man. His muscles on his shoulders rolled and neck cracked as Miguel stirred, a breathy little groan hissing past the fangs he unknowingly had on full display when he shifted on his back– scarlet gaze screwed shut as his hands reached towards your usual spot on your shared bed. The pads of his fingers melted into your hip, little claws kissing the unveiled flesh from the lack of control he had over himself from still ebbing away the sleep hazing his mind.

Your name rolled off his tongue like a blessing, raspy and a bit puzzled; "Everythin' alright?" Miguel slurred, face barely leaving the pillow as his tied-back hair came askew; the little tendrils, that usually would never see the lines on his forehead, brushing against his eyebrow and curling ever so slightly. Call you love-struck, but you swear the curl shaped a little heart. "Miss you so close already," he huffed into the domestic atmosphere, thumb swirling imaginary shapes into the canvas of your skin.

With every month passing by, the intimacy came easier; Miguel's thoughts came and went in the bubble of security you brought him. The clinginess you never would have expected from the man who has the Spider Society at his beck and call rivalled the mimicry of a grizzly bear secretly being a very soft teddy bear. And with you, he was nothing less than a man who acted as if every drop of love you had for him was his last.

It took a long time for him to open up his heart for you to create space for yourself, but as you leaned back into his space to cup your palm into the angle of his jaw– everything felt worth it. Like you belonged here.

"Bad dream." Was all you said, kissing the ridge of his nose like Miguel was the most fragile thing in the world. And he practically became putty in your hands, eyes fluttering open accompanying a subtle frown. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, sharp canine peeking through the plush of his lips. Though he looked like he had just woken from hibernation, his features glazed with gentle understanding.

"That's no good," He murmured into your touch like a prayer, sitting up until the duvet pooled in his lap. Miguel hogged most of the bed unintentionally with his almost seven-foot self, the height that had many opposed to him on their knees in angst, but when he sat up and leaned towards your form like a magnet– Miguel was nothing more than a man who worshipped you. "Déjame cuidarte, ¿de acuerdo? (Let me take care of you, okay?)"

Before you even had the mind to protest, he pulled forward until his lips met the damp hair curled against the back of your neck. "Migs, you need rest–" you began but to no avail, he was already adjusting his boxers and shuffling towards your bathroom with a slumped posture. It had your stomach churn with butterflies even after all these months, the sweetness he's learned all over again despite the trauma he's endured leaking into your daily life and becoming something you absolutely adored about him.

Silence enveloped the apartment amidst the sleepy fumbling from within the washroom, flashes of vibrancy peering into the curtains you had against the windows that took up the wall closest to the busiest flow of air traffic. A memory was brought to mind as you peeked through the fabric, met with the city of stars and man-made comets passing by the skyscraper your home is within.

Funnily enough, you had wanted to live in the underground district of Nueva York, finding yourself more enraptured by the architecture that hid machinery and structures that kept the top afloat. But that was before you met Miguel and was thrown into the ring of being a part of the Spider Society– so you just made Miguel come along with your weekly trips to the landmarks hidden away.

"C'mere, muñeco." The fallen angel on your mind interrupted the delicate quiet of your home, calling through the cracked door after a moment of the water running, warmth seeping into the bedroom and tickling the flesh peeking out from your loose-sleepwear. 

When you pushed through the threshold and granted with the presence of Miguel bent over the tub and testing the temperature of the water mumbling to himself, you were already in the process of ripping off your shirt– but you couldn't help but stutter to a halt in a flustered mess when he turned his attention to you– glasses framing his sleepy eyes like a weapon within itself. Breath hitched and sweat coating your palms in lovesick anxiety, you fumbled into the dim light of the washroom.

Clumsily, you bumped your hip into the counter as your shirt finally came off, an uncharacteristic yelp coming from you and surely you expected to meet the cold tile floor until a pair of hands settled on the curves of your hips– claws indenting on the skin barely above his boxers holding into your figure for dear life. 

"Easy now, mi sirenita." Miguel practically cooed into your ear, kissing the shell of it before trailing down the column of your neck– nibbling into the blemished canvas of your clavicle. A faint bite mark etched your skin like oil paint, muddied with purple and red hues. Just as it was fading away, Miguel's lips grazed the dent with admiration before settling his blunt canines into the desired point and biting down. You gasped breathily, heat pooling your cheeks and your knees threatening to give out.

The unspoken desire of his want to care for you was written in your hips when Miguel caressed into where you had hurt yourself from your clumsiness, yet his lack of self restraint was symbolized through the bite just below your neck– very rarely absent without the pierce-marks of fangs. But he wanted to be delicate with you tonight, treat you as one of his most prized possessions when he truly just loved you a little too much. 

Pushing him away with the palm of your hand on his chest, a gentle scold resting on your tired expression like an empty threat. "Ew, Migs. That's too cheesy." You whined, allowing him to slip the briefs from your body before taking your hand in his and leading you to the tub. You sunk down into the sudsy, bubbling water with a splash that had him sighly fondly. Drips of bubbles coated his frames and before he had the chance to wipe them off, your hands wrapped around his neck just to tug him closer to the edge of the tub.

Miguel furrowed his brows at your antics as you kissed his cheek, his hands finding purchase on the edge so he didn't take the risk of slipping into the bubbly water. The thought makes you giggle as his fingers cup the angle of your jaw, calculated and a bit sorrowful. Miguel hated seeing you hurt, so knowing that your miscalculations in a mission with him had a right hook land on your 'good side,' he felt as if he had failed you. Didn't change the fact he pummelled the pesky little anomaly in your honor – but you didn’t miss the misty eyes he held so sadly for you as he patched up your bleeding nose. 

And here he was, kissing the corner of your lips with so much delicacy that you could almost cry.

A faint whimper left his lips as they grazed the sudden wetness dripping down your cheeks, the sleepy look in his eye blanketed with haste concern as he checked your body for any other sores inflicted from the bad feud– and as Miguel’s kisses were met with bubbles and blemished skin, he whispered against your flesh like a saint worshipping their holiness. “No llores, tesoro, por favor no llores.. (Don’t cry, treasure, please don’t cry) Hate seeing that look on your face, can’t stand it.” He breathed into your neck, any care about getting wet was out the window of your apartment when a strangled choke erupted from your throat like a hiccup.

“Just missed you,” You admitted as you shifted into the water that submerged your legs, leaning into his warmth as close as you could. A sniffle had Miguel folding into your damp hair, his own tied-back curls kissing your forehead.

Miguel shuddered, the stoicism he was able to keep up in your presence throughout the daylight behind black sunglasses and a subtle pout in the rare moments where he leaves his lab crumbled the moment he heard you express your craving for him. “I.. missed you too. Shock, I missed you too–” Miguel breathed into your lips, his face angled towards you in a way that ruined everyone else for you. His lashes drooped addictively as you let out a stifled giggle at his lingo he’s never been able to shake. 

“Come join me,” you murmur as you escape his space and instead sink lower into the bathtub. You swear he practically whined, his fang peeking just slightly into your view as Miguel’s face scrunched into displeasure. His bottom lip rolled against the pointy canine, something he was always a bit self-conscious of– but with you it was like he never needed to think that he was anything different.

“You know last time– I could barely even fit in the damn thing,” He complained yet he still stripped off his loose sweatpants nonetheless, shameless as his free hand, middle finger specifically, pushed his frames up with a steadiness that proved alone he was the leader of such a "pretentious" society. Had you mentioned the thought aloud, Miguel's signature frown and deadpan stare would have replaced that sweet look in his eye in an instant. So you just smiled and opened your arms in a warm welcome.

Miguel grunted in response, faux annoyance coating his tone when you could depict the subtle curl of his lips– he was always more than content with himself whenever he was able to get as close to you as possible. You scooted forward to allow some kind of space for him, and soon enough his chest was used as a pillow for the back of your head and your hims were encompassed by his legs, feet dangling from the tub because he was right; Miguel’s stature was never fit any anything deemed for the average person. And Miguel was anything but normal, and he hated himself for that.

You could hear the mumbles of curses that slipped from his tongue when he slipped further into the bubbly water, shoulders hunched and arms resting on the cusp of the tub. It was a tight fit, your back nestled into the heat of his abdomen as his chin rested on the top of your head– and by the way Miguel shifted and oozed with insecurity you could tell your wishes he so easily obliged was backfiring from his poisoned trauma. From the mirror in the washroom, you could see the scrunch of his nose as he laid his glasses aside, atop the lid of the toilet just beside where you two sat intertwined.

Reaching back, you found his hands and clutched onto them as if he was a fading star, gentleness contrasting the explosion rumbling in his throat as his thoughts laced with venom swarmed his very being. It reminded you of the first glances you got of him when you first was recruited to the society, a downcast stare always miles underneath the horizon and a frown that never left his face. But as your fingers found comfort within his bruised knuckles, washing away the tainted sin the moment you brought the bruises to your lips and left fluttering touches– Miguel melted into your bared soul like a stray desperate for love and affection.

To you, you were his food. He feasted on what you gave, that warm feeling that curled into his ribcage and soothed his aching heart and whatever else is rotted in that dark imprisonment. Miguel took and took and took, nestled into your physicality as you ceaselessly gave and gave and gave.

But for you, all you needed to see his eyes blink into reality, grounded by what he was so depraved of growing up. Miguel’s tension left his cheeks, softening as you intertwined your hand into his and the other brushing against the fat of his thigh– squeezing reassuringly. Like a switch was turned on, Miguel devolved into a puddle around you as a huff of relief caressed the shell of your ear.

Miguel’s shins kicked up water, splashing your nose and drenching your nostrils with the scent of bubblegum. And you laughed heartily as his chin met your shoulder– nibbling so softly as if he was chewing the stress from his mind. His arms that once rested on the edge wrapped around the underneath of your arms, cupping your waist before he finally settled his hands on the core of your stomach. His deep breaths filled the silence of the bathroom, and you could practically hear snores before you broke the sweet quietness.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured into his cheek when you turned towards the chin digging into your shoulder and then you feathered your lips onto the bone of his cheek, “such a pretty thing. My sweet thing.” Praise rolled off that sleepy ooze of warmth inside your heart, and when you felt Miguel shift and his mouth that once formed an “o” contort into an upside down close-lipped smile, you knew you hit gold.

He shook his head in disbelief, breath meeting the nestle of your neck when his cheeks lit aflame and sputtered in broken Spanish. A whimper rumbled against your bare skin, and soon enough purring vibrated your back like a cat knowing it’s being spoken to. “Sabes, eres... eres increíble. Too much, you’re too much. Christ.”

Bubbles popped around the two of you, the lights set on the lowest option so Miguel didn’t develop on one those terrible migraines that pounced the moment he was at his most vulnerable: a rare dinner date he had reserved, making out in the luminescence of his lab’s technological panels, the first time you had spent the night at his own apartment before you had moved in together.

You hummed as he begrudgingly separated his hands from you, only to lather the shampoo you love in between his fingers and starting on your scalp. He was too tender with you tonight, but you needed this treatment more than anything. Your love for him leaked from your pores and intermingled with his muscles, relaxing the both of you without even needing to say anything. But you felt the urge to tell him, to tell him everything on your mind that very moment. Yet, sleep was a fickle thing and you were exhausted, so you only huffed out a whisper before submitting to the skilled massage on your muscles.

“Love you, honey.” You breathed into the domesticity of it all, his claws peeking from the pads of his fingers just the way Miguel knew you liked against your scalp. The purring in his chest only increased tenfold, scooting closer to your back if that was even possible. The both of you hold these memories close to your intertwined hearts, knowing you only had so much time together outside of your shared second lives. You haven’t been able to reassure your feelings for him in quite a few days, and despite not needing to really say your affections aloud– Miguel preferred physicality anyways, you still caught on that vocalizing your feelings for the other had you running laps around his mind every minute and every hour of the day.

He only kissed the back of your head, just upon the mole you didn’t know you had. Without a word, the sudsy kisses trailed further down until it met where your spine began, and he bit down just faintly. 

“I’m so glad I found you,” He murmured into the soap pooling down your shoulders, soft but echoing around in the walls of the bathroom like a promise, a truth that will forever hold its meaning. Within this city of stars, the only celestial he had eyes on were you.

“Te amo, mi tesoro. Te amo mucho, cuidaré de ti para siempre (I will take care of you forever).”

[jeongsoob]

the start of time —⋆˚࿔ 𝐩𝐣𝐬

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ ✿ pairing: park (jay) jongseong x reader ✿ word count: 8k ✿ genre: angst, semi-fluff ✿ tags: friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), TRIGGERS FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PARENTAL ABUSE IN THE LATTER HALF OF FIC. ୨୧ synopsis: You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort. ➸ bless @pars-ley for following this fic to the very beginning and being one of the best betas ever! this story is for you, ley, and thank you ♡ 💿 Listen to the story's playlist here!

Over the thin railing that separates Jay from the cliffs below, the waves crash violently together. The weather mirrors the feelings circulating through his veins. The ripples of the seabed meeting the sand make him long for what his life could be instead of its current state. The wind whips his trenchcoat in angry thrashes against his back. His hands grip the lighthouse’s iron bars to keep his body steady. The upcoming storm was forecast last night to be one of the biggest downpours of the summer.

As the second in command of the lighthouse keeper, his father, it’s standard practice to be prepared for what’s to come. As the sea continues its visceral reaction to the weather, Jay thinks about her and what her life has become since she’s left. Is she happy? Is Seoul everything she dreamed of? Was running from Jeju without saying goodbye worth it? Or is she closer than he believes, her heart’s desire turning out to be not far from the fishing town they grew up in?

His father calls for him inside, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Probably for the better, anyway. Thinking about those chapters of his life, the book separated cleanly and harshly with a before and after, does him no good. So, like he should, he runs inside to do the next task that keeps one of the last lighthouses in Jeju working properly. Even if his heart has to be sacrificed in the process.

The subject of your next photograph takes no interest in the lens standing three feet away. Her tail wiggles rapidly as she inspects the bush in front of her with her perky, wet nose. You giggle quietly behind your camera, trying not to disturb her inspection of the roses.

Rule #1 of photography, according to your department head Sunghoon, is to make yourself nonexistent. To get the perfect shot, conceal yourself as much as possible. It’s taken many practice sessions since your first magazine catalog, the original photos coming out less than perfect. Thankfully, you’re now lead photographer thanks to Sunghoon’s tutelage and tips. After five years, you feel like you’re on stable ground.

It reminds you of Jay, the sudden memory of him being the focus of your lens many times before a punch to the gut. Your oldest friend in the world probably wonders what the reason was for your sudden departure. You couldn’t even leave him a letter to provide some semblance of an explanation, one that he definitely deserved more than anyone else.

If only you had a reason that made sense or could salvage the bond you once shared. You know now it’s been eaten away by silence, so what could be said anyhow to repair it? 

Your guilt gnaws at your empty stomach the entire way back to the headquarters of Otherworldly, the magazine you interned at and subsequently were hired to take pictures for. You greet the rest of your team when you make your way upstairs.

”Finally found some inspiration?” Sunwoo asks. Your friend tries to balance a pencil on the top of his nose.

”I’m working on it. In the meantime, I got the copies you wanted.” You give him the folder that holds your pictures for the month’s spread.

”Barely made the deadline this time, kid.” Sunghoon tuts his head at you.

“Leave her be,” Chaewon chides him, thwacking her notebook on the back of his head. It’s nice to know the writer’s room has your back when the boys decide to tease, especially in the form of Chaewon. She may be a stern leader, but she also happens to have a soft spot for you, the only female photographer.

You hear your boss, Kim Taehyung, call your name and ask you to come to his office. Your body bristles at the command, but Chaewon pats you on the shoulder. “Probably just a timesheet thing.”

Tip-toeing into Taehyung’s office, you smile at his back. Your boss is focused on a box of files on the windowsill, the outline of his button up shirt highlighted by the sun. “Please sit,” he says.

You do as he asks, putting your hands on your knees to pinch the skin, an old habit you couldn't kick. You tuck your hands under your legs to stop when Taehyung turns to you. He presses his glasses higher to the bridge of his nose, a soft smile emerging on his lips. “I wanted to say your photos from the last column were very impressive.”

”Oh!” You respond instinctively. Expecting reprimands that turned out to be compliments, you mentally take a deep breath of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

"Also," he says, "I was wondering how you’d feel being sent out on an assignment. Well, you and Sunwoo, actually. Sunghoon was discussing a location-focused piece, and he recommended you for it since you may need a change of scenery for some fresh inspiration.”

You nod your head immediately. “Of course!”

Taehyung claps his hands together, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ve already booked you two for the next flight to Aewol in two days. It’ll probably be easy to find a place to stay, right?”

The pit in your stomach that faded immediately widens into a chasm. The sound of your hometown’s name on Taehyung’s lips could have been a figment of your imagination. A sick joke your guilt materialized to punish you further. But as you look longer at your boss, his glee transforming into hesitant confusion, you know the reality is far worse.

”The location piece is for Jeju,” you say, the realization on your lips hitting your ears like a cannon.

”Is that an issue? I can always send Jungwon with Sunwoo instead."

”No sir! Not a problem at all.” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Jungwon, the little prick, wouldn’t get in the way of your success if you could help it. It’s bad enough that he reminds you of your creative block whenever he gets the chance. No way would he steal a cover piece from you. Particularly the one Sunghoon recommended you for and your boss expected you to complete without problems.

Despite the implications creating intense dread in every fiber of your being.

”Perfect. Get some sleep for the flight! I’ll send the piece details in an email first thing tomorrow morning.”

You walk back to your desk in a daze, unsure what to say when Sunghoon, Sunwoo, and Chaewon ask about the meeting. All your thoughts can center on is Jay, his smiling face continuously playing in your mind’s eye.

“This town is cute! A bit barren, but cute,” Sunwoo says as he exits the car parked in front of your childhood home. Your mother’s rose bushes stand tall near the mailbox, the only color in the dry grasslands surrounding your house. Aewol pales in comparison to the colors of Seoul, the city’s vibrant hues suddenly replaced with sepia tones. The only color that seems to shine through the landscape is the sea a five-minute walk away.

”Say that again, Woo, and your face won’t look so cute.” You roll your eyes and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Two weeks, only two weeks, you can survive two weeks. Your mantra on the flight to Jeju Island has been giving you some relief at the thought of going back home in half a decade. Standing in front of the brick and mortar that encapsulates your old house, you find the words to be extremely hollow.

With her uncanny senses, your mother is already out the door and greeting you and Sunwoo with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. How she could tell the two of you were barely out of the car without spying out the window, you’re unsure.

Sunwoo melts under your mother’s attention, his gummy smile and polite aura on full display. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

”Ah, my prayers were answered. Glad to see my daughter returned with a boyfriend!”

Yours and Sunwoo’s eyes grow to saucers. Your tongues are erupting with explanations at an absurdly fast speed. “No, Mom,” you shush her as Sunwoo’s blush creeps across his neck. “Woo’s my coworker. He’s here with me on an assignment.”

”Oh! Apologies.” She laughs behind one hand and pats Sunwoo on the back with the other. “Doesn’t mean one day you can’t be more than coworkers! That’s how your father and I met, remember?”

You give her a close-lipped smile and nod, the muscles in your jaw tightening.

You hadn’t thought about your father or your parents’ relationship once since you had flown out to the mainland. Admittedly, your life was all the better for it.

Feeling the air of his presence surrounding yours again twists the veins in your neck to tense knots. The ends of your hair prickle in anticipation. You make it to the front of your doorstep, wondering where he is and why he didn’t barge outside to greet you.

Like she can read your mind, your mother says, “I forgot to call and tell you, honey. Your father had an accident at the factory a month ago.” You see a tear in the corner of her eye, but you don’t address it. “So…he’s been bedridden for the past few months now.”

Sunwoo expresses his deepest sympathies. Unbeknownst to him, they deserve to go to the next beggar before him.

Like any other child, you should worry about your father’s sudden health change with a heavy heart and a frazzled mind. You should feel guilty for being away for so long, wondering how to make up for the lost time.

But you feel nothing. Not an ounce of what you should feel.

Even when you sit by your parents’ bed, his eyes lazily gazing out the window while your mother tells him in a loving voice that you’re home, your emotions are devoid of anything negative or positive. Sunwoo smiles and greets him politely. Your father says nothing. The seizure that overtook him stole his ability to enunciate coherent words.

Some moments later, when it’s just the two of you in the room together, you itch to leave. It should be a pleasure to see him. But you’re unsure to see it any other way but objectively: he’s just a body in a bed, doing nothing every day.

You hear your mother shouting in the living room. Her voice is at an abnormally high pitch to exemplify her happiness. You forgot she could achieve such a decibel when she wanted to.

”You won’t believe who’s here, Seongie!”

Seongie.

The childhood nickname Jay was blessed with by his parents, and the name stuck like a second skin. Now, it bounces off your ears and exacerbates your already conflicting emotions. Your body goes into overdrive from the sudden overstimulation, at ease from knowing Jay is close by but petrified you're seeing him after so long.

You fix your hair and take tentative steps out of your parents' room and into the hallway, hearing your mother call your name to beckon you to welcome your old friend.

When you see him, his frame filling the doorway of your childhood house, you’re transported back in time. You see yourself and Jay on a day when he could barely stand at half the wall height. You were etching pencil markings into the doorframe, the wood concealing the handwriting perfectly when the door was fully closed. A time when there were no worries or anxieties placed on you, the two of you against the world.

Looking over his face now, you realize the years have not shown physically. He still has the same angled jaw and smooth cheeks. His bottom lip remains puffy, especially when he pouts. The only thing that has changed with time is his eyes, most likely from the image before him, one he hasn’t seen in so long.

He has every right to be confused. One second, you stopped being a staple in his life. Now, you’re back in it without a warning.

You can’t deny your heart clenching. The muscle seizes when he looks over your figure, his jaw ticking when he finally meets your eyes with his own.

”You’re back,” he says finally. His first words to you in five years hold an air of uncertainty, laced with unspoken pain. He’s unsure what to do with his body, his arms pressed to his sides and his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

Knowing you’re the cause of it makes you want to run to Seoul all over again with your tail between your legs, hoping you can forget the misery you’ve caused. How can one apology hold enough weight to make up for what you did to one of the only people you’ve ever loved?

Sunwoo, aware of the sudden tension flooding the room, holds out a hand to your best friend. “Hi, I’m Sunwoo.”

Jay breaks eye contact with you to take Sunwoo’s palm, shaking it with a gentle but present grip. Jay gestures to your mom when he discusses yours and Sunwoo’s job at the magazine. “She’s very proud of her daughter, you know."

”Of course!” Your mother exclaims. “‘S not everyday that your child becomes some hip photographer.”

Jay inhales a heavy breath and looks down at his watch. “I have to go back to the lighthouse, but—“

”I thought your dad still ran that thing,” you cut Jay off. Aewol’s lighthouse was one of the last on the island, and the last love Jay’s father had left after his wife passed away twelve years ago. You expected it to stay in the family, but not in this way. Not when Jay has so many dreams to fulfill. Or, at least, you hope so.

Jay releases a humorless laugh, eyes falling at the corners. “Pop’s getting old. Can’t do it forever.”

He hugs your mother and gives a soft wave to Sunwoo. You feel the pit in your chest from a few days ago re-erupt when Jay looks in your direction before he departs. All you’re left with is the grim line of his mouth to haunt you for the rest of your afternoon.

The shutter of your camera makes Jay turn his head to you with a shy grin, his hair blowing in all directions from the wind. Your spot on the cliffside overlooking the sea is close enough to the lighthouse for you to see Jay’s father going in and out of the structure with supplies shipped from the mainland. Jay only runs over when his father calls for him to help, but his father hasn’t bothered to in the last hour or so.

In the downtime, the two of you have been alternating between science homework and enjoying the cool, cloudy weather. You’ve taken a number of shots of the water’s current and weeds surrounding your picnic blanket, but the majority of them were of your best friend. He pretends he’s going to smack your lens away, but he never does.

“Are you done taking candid shots of me?” Jay asks, his pencil scratching against his notebook.

“Depends. Maybe once you tell me what you’re writing,” you tease. “Because it’s definitely not a chemical equation.”

Jay chuckles and puts his notebook between the two of you. The words are jumbled in front of you until you recognize them as a recipe. “I was testing out this version of hoedeopbap last night, but I used white fish instead of salmon. It turned out really good, even Jaeyun liked it.”

You rest your head on your hand, sprawling out on the blanket to look at Jay. He always appears so animated when discussing food. You wonder when he’ll take the initiative and do something with his passion.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring.

You grin and turn your eyes away. “You’re just a dork for food, is all.”

“Says the nerd with her camera always around her neck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I consider myself an opportunist. How else will I get good shots if I don’t have my baby with me?” You rub your camera’s body lovingly, and Jay releases a hearty laugh.

The booming sound of your father’s voice calling your name makes your entire body flinch. You swear his figure is as tall as the lighthouse as he comes towards your picnic blanket, stopping short when he sees Jay next to you.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go home.” Your father says the words with a false ease; they hide his warning to follow him back to your house. Your anxiety rumbles low in your stomach, but you play it off like it’s nothing as you pack up your stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, his eyes hopeful for the next morning. As it is your routine for him to bike with you to school, you’re also counting the minutes until you see him again.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, your eyes soft but your stomach wrapped in knots. When you’re out of sight, and your father wraps his hand around your upper arm on your way to the car, you calculate the next seconds until you’re away from him and back in the safety of your best friend’s presence.

You and Sunwoo have been around the town square of Aewol all morning and afternoon. The crisp hour of 4 PM hits you sharply with the sound of cows and other livestock sounding off somewhere nearby. The pictures you’ve both taken of the local townspeople, random animals passing through the pale greenery, and subtle landscape have been average at best. They don’t hit you with awe or fuel any further inspiration. It’s the same cycle you’ve repeated for the past three months, trying to strike some sort of match of creativity only to come up empty.

“Let’s be honest,” Sunwoo says, looking over his own camera’s reel. “These kinda blow.”

“You don’t say?” You kick a free cobblestone off the road in front of you, lips downturned.

“The assignment is ‘Hidden Treasures’ right? Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where do you think we’ll find something like that here?”

“You’re a local,” Sunwoo says in his defense. “Where did you go all the time in this backwater town?”

The beginning of your sarcastic remark dies on your lips the second you see Jay walking out of the laundromat with Heeseung, one of your old high school friends. He looks the same as Jay, still youthful but showing maturity around the edges.

Jay catches your eyes as they continue walking, his face contorting in surprise but unsure how to address it. Heeseung is the one to run towards you and pick you up in a tight hug, practically squeezing the remaining energy out of you.

“Holy shit, Jong wasn’t lying! You’re really back!” Heeseung laughs, his eyes becoming crescent moons from his happiness. You match his reaction, genuinely glad to see another familiar face.

You introduce Sunwoo to Heeseung, and Sunwoo exchanges pleasantries with Jay. Jay remains tense, the two of you conflicted about how to bridge the awkwardness that lingers.

Heeseung, like Sunwoo, is a great detective, sniffing out tension and immediately directing the conversation to your cameras. “So, Jong was saying you’re here for an assignment?”

“Yes!” Sunwoo says before you can. “We’re trying to find hidden treasures, actually. Our boss’s words, not mine.” Heeseung laughs at Sunwoo and then flicks his fingers.

“Jong could show you guys the inside of the lighthouse! Or even the view from that damn balcony would be a treasure in its own right. You can practically see the whole town from up there. Right, Jong?”

Jay rolls his eyes and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Perfect! We were dying here without any good material. No offense to you small town folk,” Sunwoo apologizes, but neither of your old friends mind. They welcome Sunwoo’s city perspective with laughter and an open hand, just like they always have with newcomers.

On your walk to the lighthouse, Heeseung and Sunwoo taking the lead, you’re left to walk alongside Jay. The tension is a tad looser than it was before, but it still pervades the space between you both.

Finally, Jay says, “I can’t believe you’re actually home, y’know.” He says the sentence more like a question, his voice unable to mask the traces of hurt that linger.

It makes your heart rip, but you avoid the workings inside your chest to keep the conversation light. "It took a long time, didn't it?”

”Yeah. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” Jay’s voice turns a degree lighter. He smiles, the crack in his solid facade giving you a way back in.

“I basically did. All I had was my camera and some clothes in my bag.”

Jay's eyes widen, startled by the thought. “You’ve never traveled light once in your entire life.”

”I know! I barely had time to grab the necessities.”

His eyes are filled with humor. “And by that, you mean…”

“Obviously my Pokémon collection, for starters. I had to start from scratch,” you joke. “Good thing I saved all of the old cards under my bed.”

”Even the one of Charmander that I dropped in Jaeyun’s homemade soju?”

You nod, laughing. “It still smells like watermelon.”

”Bullshit!”

You both fall into an easy rhythm of witty banter and taunting, recalling old memories and brushing shoulders in a mocking fashion.

By the time you’re taking photographs on the highest floor of the lighthouse, the tension has dissipated by a large portion. Your relationship with Jay may not be completely back to where it was before, but the first lighthearted smile he throws in your direction proves it’s a start.

And a start is just enough to make your heart feel a million pounds lighter.

“So Jongseong is flailing this card around, not realizing that the bowl of my signature soju punch is right there behind him…” Jake tells the story of the Charmander card with animated expressions. Heeseung and Jay roll their eyes, but Sunwoo laughs the entire time, his buzz bumping his energy to a level you had never seen before.

The bonfire Jake and Heeseung set up a walk away from the lighthouse is big enough for all five of you to sit comfortably around it. It seemed to be the only way your old friends could hang out together at this point in their adult lives. The bar that still stood in town filled with too many old people to feel like an acceptable hangout location.

“And he completely dropped not only her precious Pokémon card, but his whole fist into the punch bowl! I had to make a whole new batch without my parents knowing about it!” Jake laughs incredulously.

The memory still holds a level of insanity for him, clearly—not just at the situation but the level of teasing that you and Jay would devolve to when you were in your own little world together. You couldn’t help that you wanted to take your card from Jay’s hands, even if that meant soaking him in alcohol to get him to give it up.

You lift your beer to your lips, blushing. Jay sits beside you and notices the humor in your expression, smiling to himself too. You didn’t expect to reach this level of closeness again so soon. Who knew it would take a work project to find your way back to each other? With the week coming to a close and a good catalog of photos under your belt thanks to him, you could say the glass was looking half full.

“You guys got any more stories? This shit’s hilarious!” Sunwoo says, still laughing.

“Loads, man,” Jake responds.

“He’s got the best memory of all of us. Probably remembers all of our first naps in elementary,” Heeseung adds.

“How about we focus on the present, please? Otherwise we’ll be here until the sun comes up, Dee and Dum,” Jay says, pointing to the prime suspects with their all-knowing smirks.

“What else is there to say, Jay? Jake and I have been toiling on the dredging boats. You keep guarding that white tower and saying no to your uncle every time he asks you to work at his restaurant. Same old, same old.”

You turn your head to stare at Jay, perplexed. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

It’s always been Jay’s dream to make something of himself with his recipes. Bookmarks, sticky notes, anything with free space held an ingredient here or a step for a recipe there. It was like it was second nature, as were photographs for you.

How could he deny himself from what he wanted?

“I already have responsibilities here. I can’t drive up and down the highway to Park & Co. every day.”

“Start small, idiot.” You chide him, half-serious in your pestering. “Who said you couldn't do both? You can be a good son and still have your own dream.”

“Careful,” Jake says to you. “He might listen to you.”

“You’re the only one who gets through that cold heart of his,” Heeseung teases.

Jay gives the older boys a stern look, and they back off immediately.

On the walk back to your house, Jay’s jacket nestled around your shoulders, you grill him further on the prospect of him cooking seriously. “You should do it.”

Jay shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “And what’ll happen to the lighthouse? My dad will go back every morning on his cane and keep it working himself? No way.”

“Come on, who says you can’t do both?” You flaunt your arms in the air, emphasizing your point. “It’s not like it rains every day here.”

He looks at you with humored eyes, their shape becoming extremely thin when he smiles. “You’re even more stubborn as an adult, you know?

You poke your tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you, Seongie.”

The rain soaks your clothes when you run through Jay’s door. You shake off the droplets in your hair, most of the strands needing to be wrung out in your fist. Jay gets you a towel to dry off with, laughing at your current state of affairs.

”Don’t make fun of me. Be glad I still came, asshole,” you warn, warming yourself with the dryness of the cotton towel.

Jay raises his hands in mercy. “I told you to come earlier! Forecasts are no joke.”

”Sometimes they’re wrong,” you say. 

”Ninety-five percent of the time, they’re not. Trust the lighthouse keeper next time, maybe? I’ve been watching those skies for three years. I know if and when the weathermen are full of shit.”

You roll your eyes and shuck your shoes off, “Whatever. Any chance you have a spare pair of warm socks for me? I may get frostbite.”

”One, that involves snow,” Jay says as he walks into his small bedroom, leaving you alone for a second before coming out with what you requested. “And two, promise to bring them back. I only have so many pairs before I have to go to the city for more.”

”Scout’s honor,” you promise. You switch out your soaked socks for Jay’s, the feeling of the fabric making you immediately warmer. It could also be the fireplace that Jay put kindling in before you got there, but it’s mostly the socks. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

“I’d offer you a set of clothes too, but I’m moving a lot of my stuff from my dad’s.”

“It’s not that far away, though. You really want to live in this tiny shack?”

Jay laughs and returns to his food on the stove. “Do you think I could bring a girl home living with him? I love him, but I’m getting too old to be his roommate.”

You smile and press your arms into the kitchen counter, but you know it’s false. The thought of Jay being with someone else sprouts a gargantuan knot of jealousy in your stomach. He’s never belonged to you, not by any means. Not only that, but your illogical departure gives you no right to claim him now. And yet…

“Hey, where’d you go?” He waves a dish towel in front of your face, a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you play off your prying thoughts.

“Obviously.” He sticks his tongue out at you and continues to stir the concoction on the stove.

“What are you making anyway?”

“Seaweed soup. I haven’t been able to make you any since…the last birthday we spent together.”

Your body warms deep down to the soles of your feet at this surprise. “My birthday was three months ago.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, smirking. “Consider it a belated birthday gift then.” He carries on stirring, but continues talking. “Besides, you always liked my soup compared to your mom’s. Too watery, if I remember right.”

You blush and step away from the counter. “Let’s not talk about her or her food.”

Jay’s face turns puzzled. “You’ve always been so bristly when we talk about your family. Your mom is one of the sweetest ladies in town." 

“You don’t get it. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“Hey, at least you have both parents around.”

You slam your hand down on another laminate countertop, growing more frustrated the longer the topic is broached. “Jongseong, please drop it.”

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asks, puzzled and growing alarmingly quiet at your outburst.

“Because you don’t get it! And you never will, okay? So let it go!”

The kitchen suddenly feels too suffocating, the memories of the past and your argument melding together in a way that makes any hunger that you had become a full stomach stuffed with nothing but anger and fear. You run out of the house and back into the rain, knowing if you say anything more, your secrets will fall around you like pellets soaking your skin.

The lanterns fill the sky like a thousand stars, close enough for you to touch before they’re whisked away into the dark clouds above you. Even for your small town, every adult and child knows the end of summer festival is a time to make the last set of wishes and affirmations before autumn comes. If Jay’s father yearned for an easy season, he would buy a lantern to release on a night light tonight, as would your friends’ families who hoped for good health and fortune.

You smile when you manage to catch one, holding on tight despite knowing it’s against tradition. Once one is meant to float away, it was considered rude to stop it from continuing on its path upward.

Jay chuckles and grabs it from you, matching your pout in jest. “Next year, I’ll buy you your own, alright? Don’t be greedy!”

You roll your eyes and watch the lantern rise up and away from your spot on the beach. It shimmers in an amber glow until it slips away into the black sky overhead.

You turn to him, eyes lit up not just from the lantern flames. “Did you wish for anything this year?”

Jay shrugs. “I can’t really wish for anything ‘cause I didn’t get—“

“Don’t give me that! It’s symbolic, anyway. Just tell me,” you whine.

Jay only side-eyes you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You attempt to throw a bundle of sand in his direction, but he sees your upcoming attack the second you raise your arm. He takes your wrist in his hand, the clump disintegrating between your fingers. The two of you laugh as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

You’re both a tangle of limbs until he finally pins you down on the ground. He hovers above you, panting hard. “I win,” Jay replies, his breathing ragged but eyes still sparkling from a successful takedown.

“You wish.”

In the flicker of lantern lights and midnight stars overhead, Jay can’t help himself from leaning down closer until there’s barely a breath between your lips. He lets every doubt that has lingered over the past fourteen years dissipate and surrenders to the moment, feeling the softness of your mouth as he kisses you.

You could be glowing as bright as the lights still being sent off into the sky. You feel like you are, anyway.

He doesn’t go faster or push you further, the simplicity of the act making you sparkle from within with every ebb and flow of your conjoined lips. The crackle of a firework is what makes the two of you come up for air, unaware of how much time has passed.

 You let the moment hang between you the entire walk home. He holds your hand, squeezing it every now and then, the action more valuable than any words he could say right now. He holds himself back from giving you another kiss to say goodnight, knowing there’s always tomorrow.

Minutes after you make it inside, the scene in front of you turns whatever joy was left from Jay’s presence into acid.

“Can you not do anything right around here? I ask for the simplest things and even that’s too much.” Your father points to the food in his hands with an air of disgust directed at your mother.

He spits his vitriol in her face, the pattern commonplace. The behavior is nothing new, but his eyes show something worse than normal brewing beneath the surface.

“I can fix it,” your mother assures him, trying to take the bowl from him. “I’ll throw out the old batch and—“

“So now you think wasting food is the better choice? Are you stupid?”

The two of them are unaware of your presence, but even if they were, you doubt that would change the downward spiral they were heading towards.

She tries to walk away from him like she always has, diffusing the situation in the only way she knows how, but he drops the bowl on the counter and takes her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving,” he warns. The next moments pass in a blur, each one that plays out making you hover outside of your body, looking down in disbelief. Your mother’s temple hits the wood with a terrible thud. The next second, your body is pressed against your father’s to pull him away, begging, “Daddy, please stop!” 

His upper arm has enough force to jam into your chest and knock you onto the kitchen tile below. Pain reverberates up your tailbone from hitting the floor in a violent bang.

Your mother comes from the daze of her assault to cover your body with her own. It’s a pointless defense, your father’s feet slamming hard on the floor as he walks away and into the bedroom without looking back once.

She apologizes profusely, holding your head in her hands as tears stream down her face without an endpoint. You can barely form a tear yourself, still unsure the past ten minutes happened at all. An hour ago, you had your first kiss, and now…

“Your aunt lives on a coast off the mainland. I can’t let you stay here anymore, my love.”

That moment is when you feel the water form in your eyes. You couldn’t leave now, not with so much left uncertain.

“Promise me you’ll leave this place. Don’t think about this night again and find something better, please.”

That entire night, the waves knocking into each other with the same force as you had encountered hours ago, you feel your heart shatter into a multitude of pieces, each fragment tinier and more painful than the last. The thought of Jay waking up to see you in the morning only to find you erased from his life, robs any chance of you sleeping on the boat ride to Wando.

He’ll try to call and text, for sure. But what could be said that would explain the last twenty four hours without breaking your promise to your mother? How could you live with sharing such intimate details of your household, even with someone as sacred to you as Jay is?

How could you make him believe it wasn’t his fault that you fled without revealing your most vulnerable and harsh reality? After coming so close to the future you always dreamed of with him, what would he think? What would he do?

So, like any coward does, you let the phone ring until your battery dies, not bothering to charge it again until you make it to your aunt’s. You tell yourself he’ll move on and life will be better with you safe and out of the picture. Every beat of your breaking heart may call you a liar, but you’ll learn to twist it into the truth one day.

The next afternoon, sun slowly setting to meet the waves below, you walk towards the lighthouse with the courage your younger self didn’t have the night you ran away. Your heart tosses around in your mouth when you take the first step through the threshold, but now is the last time you fear the truth. If you couldn’t explain the circumstances back then, the least you could do was explain them now.

You take the trek up the steps to the top floor of the lighthouse, every step heavier than the last. Jay stands inside the lantern room cleaning the large bulb at the center of the space. He immediately tenses when you walk through the open door, but he says nothing. He only holds the same somber expression he had the first day you arrived back in Aewol. Only now, so much more rests behind his face that you cannot decipher.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. The words release something you believed couldn’t be separated from your being. Your guilt remains present, but the apology provides a long-held breath of fresh air.

He looks up to meet your gaze, eyebrows furrowing just a touch. The setting sun casts amber shadows across his face, making his confusion breathtaking. Clearly, he’s unsure what exactly you’re apologizing for.

The next words already taste like lead in your mouth, but you can’t hold the weight of them for another second.

Speaking them out loud is what will set you free.

“The night I left, my dad pushed my mom into a cabinet,” you confess. The eight words you just uttered create a well of tears in your eyes, but you keep your voice level and solid. “He had always been…harsh before, not just with her, but that was the first night I ever saw him hurt her with his hands instead of his words.

“I tried to stop it from getting worse, and I fell down—no,” you take a breath, “h-he threw—he threw me down on the floor.” You feel foolish for trying to minimize his actions, knowing there’s no reason to protect him anymore. You lower your head, ashamed. “That was when my mom called my aunt in Wando. She begged me not to say anything, so I kept it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about it… and about how much of an asshole my father really is.”

You can’t help the way your words crumble on your tongue or the low whimper that erupts from your lips. You had accepted in silence the harsh reality of your father being a violent and cruel human being, but speaking the words aloud is another beast entirely.

You go cold, your figure limp until you feel Jay’s gentle fingers under your chin. They pull your face up to meet his, catching his glassy and red eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

You sniffle. “What would you have done? We were seventeen—“

“Fuck that,” Jay seethes, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I would’ve killed him then, just like I want to right now.”

You laugh and take his fingers in yours. “I made a promise.” You lock onto his gaze harder, trying to convey every ounce of regret you still feel. “I thought about calling you every day. I’d pick up the phone and didn’t know how to come up with the right words, especially after…”

Jay laughs, passing over the curve of your cheek with his thumb. It’s the rhythmic pattern of his touch that makes you come down from such heightened emotions. It’s always been his superpower, grounding you like this. “If I had known I wouldn’t see you again, I would’ve kissed you until the sun came up.”

You blush, your body flushing with heat. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Jongseong. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward, the shy boy you grew to love appearing in front of you. The last time you were this close, you both were unsure about most things in life, but not about how much you meant to him, and vice versa.

Now, the feelings he had put on hold for so long take hold of him, his heart a kaleidoscope of pent-up sensations when he finally presses his lips to yours. His mouth is ravenous, his tongue finding yours as his arms clutches onto your body with fervor.

He lifts his head to say the words that have always been in his mind and heart from the second he saw you. “I love you.”

You’re unsure if it’s normal to cry at such a confession, but regardless, there are no tears of fear or pain. They’re ones that fill the silence between you with what he already knows to be true. But you say the words he needs to hear anyway. “I love you, too, Seongie.”

This is what it feels like to be at home. When he has his hands in your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep later on in the night, you wonder why it took you this long to come back to the one person who has always been the safest space in your world.

The two of you stay nestled in the thin blanket, Jay’s body your source of warmth in the small drawing room of the lighthouse. The cot barely holds your bodies, but with you both squeezing together and not wanting to let go, you make it work.

Jay takes stray hairs from your face to tuck behind your ears. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how bad my crush was until the festival.”

You giggle into his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention to boys back then! How would I have known?” You hold his gaze, suddenly vulnerable.

He chuckles. “I think I was pretty obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess,” you joke. “Besides, I think I always knew I’d end up with you, strangely.”

“That’s not strange, not at all.” He kisses you tenderly, nipping your lips until you laugh into his mouth. “Perfect. At least to me.”

“Same,” you agree. “I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you.”

Jay responds by holding you tighter between his arms. He kisses the top of your head before whispering, “So where do we go from here?”

The answer is simple, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

Jay looks deeply into your eyes and senses the words you cannot say, and the strength of his stare and his arms as your protective walls from all the harm that still exists in this world gives you the power to confront what you need to.

That afternoon, leaving Jay in the lighthouse with your heart fully in his possession, you know you have to face the demons that wait for you in your childhood home. If you are to have a future together, the first thing you have to do is make peace with the past.

A handwritten note on the fridge tells you your mother went out for groceries, giving you the perfect excuse to release the words that would end your terror once and for all.

You enter your parents’ room to see your father, unmoved from the spot you saw him in on the first day you were back home. Your mother pleaded for you to check in every now and then now that you were back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not until now.

You move the chair by his bedside out to sit down. When you finally face him again, you take note of the details you were too blinded by indifference to notice before. You observe the wrinkles on his forehead, the sunken divots under his eyes, the age lines surrounding his mouth, the frailness of his body.

The weight he’s lost since his accident makes all his features stand out more. All that he’s lost, but has also always been, is on full display now: this husk of a man without the venomous words and bravado to hide behind is truly nothing to be scared of anymore.

 “You’re so much smaller than I realized.” You say it with a breath of relief, any fear or anger that was left behind for him in your soul replaced with pity. You can walk away without regrets or words you wish you could’ve said, because you know now it’s a waste of your peace. Maybe one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive, even. Not today, but someday.

You walk away with no grievances left, back in the direction of the lighthouse with a new purpose and ready to take the path you were always meant to. Back to the home you’ve always had resting inside of the one you love.

Jay stands with his back facing you, staring off into the expanse of sea in front of him. His shoulders ease as you step closer.

“You’re back,” he says with saccharine happiness. He takes your hand in his and presses your fingers to his lips.

“I am,” you respond. You kiss him with your whole soul, incredibly in love and unafraid of what will come next.

“Babe! The new issue is here!”

You open your eyes to the sound of Jay’s words. You could barely doze off when he was so excited to grab the mail this morning. It was only delivered a few minutes ago, but of course he has to check for the newest spread of Otherworldly in your mailbox. To his happiness and your shy pride, your name’s plastered in almost every section of the photography credits.

Convincing your boss to let you work for the magazine from your hometown turned out to be easier than expected. With his happiness from your newfound inspiration, it seemed like you could take pictures of algae for all he cared and it would be a hit in the magazine’s eyes.

You weren’t the only one who could take credit, though. Jay’s name was also included in some of the photos, his insight into Aewol’s cuisine and new sous chef position at Park & Co providing more than enough influence for your photography. The lighthouse would always be his priority (aside from you), but his second love of food could not be kept at bay any longer.

He opens the magazine to the first page that features your photos, the centerfold being of Jay’s original recipe for hoedeopbap. “It looks even better in print,” Jay says, his face three shades brighter staring at the meal.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his middle, peeking your head out from the side of his shoulder to look at the pages. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Some of the best you’ve ever done.” He turns in your hold to press your chest to his, kissing your forehead in the process. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Actually, getting lucky is how we got this.” You take his hand and rest it on the curve of your stomach, fifteen weeks peaking out from under the midriff of your tank top.

He laughs and presses his lips to your cheek. “I love you.”

To your surprise, peace was easier to find than you had expected. Confronting what you ran away from all those years ago feels like a distant memory, the pain of the past a part of another reality. There are no monsters that creep in the shadows or secrets to keep locked behind closed doors.

All that remains is the ease that comes from a life filled with nothing but love and happiness, as weightless and freeing as a lantern floating through the sky.

“I love you too, Park Jongseong.”

@hyperdramas @tocupid @hursheys @slytherinshua @junekissed (thank for beta-ing also june!! ilysm) @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

Happy Birthday

Shimura Tenko x fem!reader

Navi.

Notes: My dream Birthday I´m not even kidding

Autumn Event

Warnings: smut, mdni, modern au-ish?, fluff, aftercare, spit (incl. he spits in your mouth), reader has long(er) hair, he carries reader, lots of cute petnames (incl. "pretty slut" and variations), reader wears a dress, pretty cute and domestic overall, he overstimulates himself

Wordcount: 2k+

“I wanna sit on your lap.” It was a statement, rather than a request and he had to suppress the smile threatening to break out on his lips.

“Yeah? Is my pretty girl feeling needy?” he asked, extending an arm to pull you closer. You gasped but climbed on his lap nonetheless.

“Hey, it´s my birthday, you know? Shouldn´t you give me like…princess treatment or something?”

Tenko snorted as he helped you get comfortable. Carefully, he rested his chin on your shoulder and grabbed his mouse again.

“I always give you princess treatment.” The sensation of his breath against your neck made you shiver, and you could see him grin in the reflection of his computer.

You stuck out your tongue but cuddled deeper into him regardless. He couldn´t help but smile softly and pressed a kiss to your head. After holding you tightly for a moment, he focused back on his game.

“Wait. Is that my account?” you said, suddenly.

Tenko grinned.

“You hate exploring, so I thought I´d max out everything for you.”

You jerked around, eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait really?” you gasped. He nodded, already knowing you´d bless him by throwing your entire body into his arms.

“It´s really easy to make you happy, you know?” he murmured against your hair while you pressed your face into his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so much!”

“Love you too, princess, now let me do my thing yeah?” he gently moved your body again so he could comfortably look over your shoulder and continue playing.

“Hmm.” You nuzzled deeper into him. “Wait, oh my god how did you do that?”

He snorted.

“Sounds like a skill issue on your part, baby.”

You gasped.

“How dare you! I will have you know, I´m a God at this game.”

“With an HP sands and goblet on your Wanderer?” he grinned down at your scowling form.

“Well, at least the crit stats look nice,” you pouted.

“I know, baby,” he cooed at you and kissed your temple. “At least you´re good at other things,” he mumbled.

“What? Tenko!”

He laughed.

“C´mon baby, what would I do without you in my life, hm?”

You grew soft.

“And?”

“Hm?”

“What would you do without me?”

He leaned back to look at you properly, hand finding your chin to tilt your face upwards.

“Playing video games and working and nothing more.”

You furrowed your brows.

“What? It´s all I did before you too.” a breathy chuckle escaped him. “What about you then?”

“I ask the question here!”

“Right, my bad, princess,” he teased and kissed the tip of your nose, barely pulling back after.

“Well lucky for you I don´t intend on leaving,” you grinned. “You´re stuck with me.”

He hummed, lips brushing yours. “Marriage and all?”

You giggled. “Yeah, marriage and all.”

“You´re so cute baby,” he murmured and kissed you again. “So fucking cute.”

He moved you to face him and gripped your waist to pull you flush against him so he could deepen the kiss. A mewl escaped your lips. You could feel him twitch against your core at the soft sound.

Gently, you ground your hips against his growing member, drawing a groan from his lips. His hands tightened around your waist, dragging your core against his body to drive you both toward an orgasm. You moaned against his mouth.

“Fuck,” he murmured, barely pulling away, too drunk on the taste of your lips. Abruptly, he picked you up and brought you to his bed – practically collapsing over your form. One of his arms was propped up right next to your head, fingers playing with your hair. His other hand made sure you couldn´t move away from his kiss.

You couldn´t help but mewl, silently begging him to come even closer, even tugging at his hoody. He grunted, settling down until he lay on top of you, hands cradling your face and hips slowly grounding against yours.

“Lemme eat you out, baby, yeah?” he rasped against your lips, but you couldn´t answer, breath completely stolen away. He rested his cheek against yours, watching you patiently until you had caught your breath again.

“Please, Tenko.”

He moaned at the sound of your broken voice and moved down your body, his hands squeezing and groping at your sides as he did so until he came face to face with your clothed pussy.

“Shit, baby, you smell so fucking good.”

Impatiently, he slipped off your panties for you and flipped up your skirt. He took another moment to breathe in your familar smell only to dive mouth-first into your pussy, spreading your outer lips to give his tongue space to lap at your clit. One of his hands held you down by your hips, the other trailed down your inner thigh. He briefly pulled back to wet some fingers with his tongue, but was back on you in a second, easing one of the digits into your pulsing core.

“Fuck, baby, you´re so good, take off your dress for me, yeah? Wanna see you completely,” he grunted, rutting his hips against the mattress at the sinful sounds you let out through your parted lips. You did as you were told, hands trembling and legs shaking at the pleasure coursing through you.

Soon he had you arching your back and pressing your pussy against him more while he sped up the licking and sucking at your clit, even pushing in a second finger to drive you ever closer to your orgasm.

You came against his tongue hard and he moaned at the feeling of you spasming around his fingers.

“Baby, fuuuck, you´re so good, gotta let me do that shit more often, yeah?” he groaned, slowly pulling out of you to push himself up on his hands, grinning down at you with cum smeared across his mouth. He leaned forward to kiss you and you both moaned at your taste now drenching both of your lips. “Tastes so good, doesn´t she?” he rasped and you nodded dumbly. “C´mon baby, say it,” he tapped your cheek expectingly.

“Tastes so good,” you softly repeated, still coming down from your high.

“That´s my pretty girl,” he groaned and captured your lips in another kiss. “Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You could only muster a helpless nod accompanied by a whine and he smiled fondly at you.

“Prettiest fucking girl,” he praised you again, before pecking your lips once more.

With two fingers he spread your pussy to properly line himself up with your hole.

He eased into you, letting out a low groan against your lips.

“F – Fuck princess, why – ngh – how do you always feel this good?”

A soft mewl left your lips when he had filled you up completely, grabbing at him, disoriented, to press a wet kiss to his cheek.

“Tenko,” you whimpered.

He moaned at the messy sight in front of him. Your hair chaotically strewn over the pillow, your eyes pleading and glassy fixated on him and a cute little pout on your lips. He snapped his hips against yours and your back arched at the feeling. Quickly, his arms circled your waist.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, setting a rapid rhythm, hands groping and tugging at your skin to have you even closer to him. His strokes were deep, his heavy cock sliding in and out of you so nicely. His lips found yours again, spit spread across your mouth with his eager tongue while he rutted into you.

One of his hands reached down to play with your clit, stroking her in tandem with his heavy thrusts into you.

“Heh.” He grinned at you, eyes lidded, watching your face contort into one of pleasure. “You cumming, baby?”

You nodded wildly, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hung open – just so perfect for him to spit into. “Uhu.”

“Uhu?” he mocked, the hand on your hips tightened its grip so he could drive even harder into you. “My little princess slut is cumming?” One more tug of his fingers on your clit and your body tensed in his hold. A boastful laugh escaped him, though it was cut short by the wild clenching of your pussy that made him topple over your body, his face tucked into the crook of your neck and a loud groan escaping him. The speed of his thrusts decreased, driving into you slow but hard as he came.

“Mmh,” you mumbled, nuzzling deeper into his embrace, but all of a sudden, he picked up speed again. A surprised cry escaped you and your arms quickly found purchase around his shoulders. He moved so fast, holding you tightly and grunting against the skin of your neck. He couldn´t speak, just chasing the pleasure he felt when you spasmed around him, completely drunk on the feeling.

His cock was aching, but his mind was empty, set only on feeling you twitch around him again.

Moans and whimpers left your mouth, your body rocking against his from the way he harshly thrust into you. After a while he sped up even more and his grunts became louder. His left hand found the side of your cheek, shaky hand caressing your skin. It slowly travelled downwards, leaving goosebumps in its wake all over your body, until it pinched at your clit to make you crash head-first into your second orgasm.

He followed suit, body collapsing on top of yours, still rutting erratically into you until his thrusts turned sluggish and then, finally, stopped.

A long moan escaped him, his mouth, open, pressed against your neck.

You stayed entangled like this for a little bit as you attempted to catch your breaths. Once he had caught his breath again, he pressed several sloppy kisses against your skin and up your jaw. Slowly, he pulled away from your face and propped himself up on his arms to look at your tired-out form. He grinned at you blearily blinking up at him – lips swollen and breath still erratic.

“Fuck, you look so messy, princess,” he murmured, fingers brushing away some spit next to your mouth.

You whimpered.

“Mmh?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

His eyes widened, but a moment later a soft smile graced his mouth and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your parted lips. Then another. And another until he peppered your face with kisses and he held your giggling form in his embrace. His eyes crinkled at the sight.

“Wanna make out,” you whispered against his mouth, and he hummed.

"Just for a second though, gotta clean you up, baby.”

He moved his lips slowly against yours, fingers brushing lightly against your skin. Suddenly, he sat up, arms securely around you to carry your body with him and place you on his lap – his lips never leaving yours as they moved in tandem. His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your skin.

He pulled back way too soon for your taste. Smiling fondly, he watched how your eyes fluttered open and a pout formed on your lips. “C´mon baby, I´ll carry you to the bathroom.”

He helped you to the toilet and held you steadily when he lead you to the shower afterwards, turning it on for you both. As the warm water finally soothed your skin, he ran his fingers through your hair while you hid your face in his shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

You mumbled unintelligibly and nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

“You wanna watch something and cuddle a little bit before going to sleep?”

He received a nod from you and smiled, gently patting your head. After a minute of just holding you close to him, he loosened the grip you had on him so he could pull away to wash the sweat and cum off of you.

You trembled once he brushed against your clit and whined, but he simply let out a chuckle as he straightened his back again. For a moment, he just looked at you, holding your face in his hand, only to swiftly pick you up again, laughing at your surprised shriek and carried you out of the shower.

Not too long after, you laid against Tenko´s chest, absentmindedly playing with the string of his hoody. His left arm held you tightly around your stomach and in his free hand he held the remote in order to turn on the tv. A familiar intro music started playing.

However, you couldn´t help but look up at him instead, smiling wide. He mirrored your smile and let his left hand lightly trail up and down your neck. Then, he leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

He hummed, thumb brushing away hair from your face.

“I love you too, princess.”

[sloanesallow]

give you my wild

Nearly a decade into their marriage, Sebastian and Sloane lead a peaceful, idyllic life in a coastal cottage with their toddler-aged son, Antony. As their anniversary approaches and they have the opportunity to spend some much-needed alone time together, Sebastian wonders if it is time for their family to grow. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), body worship, overstimulation, dirty talk, and Sebastian's fanon breeding kink. Also domestic bliss, sharing a bath, tooth-rotting fluff and Dad!Seb. [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

The Sallow homestead is a quaint, modest cottage on the English coast, surrounded by rolling hills and sprawling fields as far as the eye can see. It is paradise for Sebastian and his wife, their own little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of the wizarding and muggle worlds.  

Wife—Sebastian’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin at the word as he thinks about how lucky he is to have Siobhan—Sloane—as his bride. Ten years now he’s known her, and for ten years they have been inseparable, blossoming from friends to lovers to soulmates to parents. Every day is a blessing, the peace hard-earned and well-deserved after the turmoil of their younger years.

The decision to settle down came only after the birth of their son, Antony. His arrival was not necessarily planned, but welcomed nonetheless, allowing the married couple to retire very early from their Ministry positions. Instead of traveling the world as a curse-breaking-healer duo, the two focus on research while raising their young tot. To Sebastian’s everlasting surprise, fatherhood comes naturally to him, and he thrives, wondering why he ever cared about notoriety when life’s greatest treasure is family—home.

Despite the isolation, their location is in close enough proximity to Nottingham, where Sloane’s father resides. A few hours by muggle means, Mr. Sloane—Grandpa Sloane—is always ready to lend a helping hand. He is the type of parental figure Sebastian always dreamed of after losing his parents, forever grateful for the older man’s patience and guidance. That, and Mr. Sloane’s willingness to care for his grandson.

Even though Antony is a quiet and well-behaved child, he gets into his fair share of messes if left alone for even a second. At nearly three, he is an avid explorer, constantly covered in dirt from the garden, running in and out of the house to show off whatever bug or amphibian he’d dug up. His interests would not be an issue if Antony wasn’t also obsessed with sticking anything and everything in his tiny mouth, as if to learn more by taste.

Maintaining intimacy while nurturing such a curious child is not an easy task, especially when Sebastian and Sloane are still so enamored with one another, even after all these years. The so-called honeymoon period has endured, a bliss neither seem interested in losing. More times than not they are interrupted by the pitter-patter of feet in the hallway, and even when they do manage to copulate, it is usually with hushed whispers and rushed movements to avoid waking their son.

There’s been even more of a dry spell as of late, between Sebastian’s research and Sloane’s travels to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons to lecture students on advancements in Herbology. Antony has been rather clingy too, insisting on sleeping between his mummy and duddy every evening.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian is eager to spend some time alone with his beloved wife. Very eager. With their wedding anniversary on the horizon, it is the perfect opportunity for Antony to stay with Grandpa Sloane in Nottingham for the weekend. His son barely mumbles a goodbye, too distracted by the barn cats and the promise of a sweet treat to notice his father apparating away.

The sun is setting by the time Sebastian returns to the seaside cottage, the chilly salt air tousling his dark hair as he makes his way up the stone pathway. Smoke billows from the chimney and he can smell the Shepard’s pie Sloane is cooking as he approaches the front door.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!”

Sloane doesn’t seem to register his return, continuing her idle humming in the kitchen. Sebastian quickly shucks his boots, hanging his cap and coat on the nearby rack before moving closer to where she’s standing in front of the largest counter, diligently kneading a large mass of dough. He watches her as he rolls up his sleeves, a content smile on his face as he wonders for the millionth time what luck or divine intervention led her to him, made her stay. There’s a nervous flutter in his gut when she peeks over her shoulder and greets him with a bright smile.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Is it possible to fall more in love every day? They’ve grown up together, matured from the fire of youthful love to the deep, abiding connection of a shared life. Well, mostly matured. That passion is still present, a burning flame ignited each time their eyes meet. Sebastian struggles to tamper it down as he closes the distance, resting his hands on her hips, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

“How was the trip?” she asks. He can feel the muscles in her back and shoulders flexing as she continues working the dough. “Is Ant alright?”

“He’s fine,” Sebastian murmurs, already distracted by his racing thoughts and the anticipation of what the evening might bring. “I think Ant loves his Daideo more than us.”

“I think Ant loves ice cream,” Sloane suggests, plopping the rolled dough into a large baking dish and setting it aside. She dusts the countertop with more flour, white specks sticking to her fingers and apron. “That’s at the top of every toddler’s hierarchy.”

Sebastian hums in response, unable to resist the urge to kiss her exposed neck. He smirks when she sucks in a sharp breath, the subtle tilt of her head inviting him to continue. Still, she squirms when he wraps his arms snug around her waist, pressing himself close and trapping her between his body and the countertop.

“Seb!” she playfully scolds as he nips the soft skin, kissing a trail up to the shell of her ear. “You can’t wait a few more hours?” she asks. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He slides one of his hands up to fondle a clothed breast. “Starved.” 

“Sebastian!”

“Can you blame me?” he softly chuckles, not-so-subtly rolling his hips so she can feel how impatient he really is. “How long has it been since we’ve had the house to ourselves, hmm?”

Sloane sighs, melting under his touch. Too easy. “At least let me wash up, first. I smell like…mashed potatoes, hardly an aphrodisiac.”

“You don’t know that,” he jokes, barely pausing in his lavishing of her neck. He undoes the first few buttons on the back of her blouse so he can kiss her shoulder, too. “Sweetheart, you could be covered in troll guts, and I’d still devour you.”

Sloane’s laugh melts into a delighted moan as Sebastian continues, bunching the fabric of her skirt up until he can snake an eager hand beneath. He strokes her thigh before squeezing the flesh of her bottom, grinning at the silky feel of her underwear.

“These are new,” he comments, appreciatively.

“From my last trip to Paris,” she explains with bated breath.

“Bénis soient les français.”

He slides his fingers between her clenched thighs and groans at the warm slick he finds, the thin fabric saturated with her arousal. Slipping past the barrier, he rubs two fingers through her folds and up to circle her clit with a featherlight touch, one that makes her buck against his palm. Sloane’s head lulls even more to the side as she whimpers and rocks her hips, seeking friction.

“That,” he whispers against her ear as he slowly sinks his fingers inside her heat. She clenches around him and moans as he drags his digits back before plunging back in.  “That is my favorite sound in the world, love. The sound of you falling apart under my touch.”

“I’ve been dreaming about tonight, Sloane, of having you all to myself,” Sebastian is reminded of just how long it’s been since they had the freedom to be loud, how long it’s been since she’s screamed his name in ecstasy. “Do you still want to wait?” he teases, darkly chuckling when she quickly shakes her head.  

He crooks his fingers, expertly finding the sweet spot that makes her gasp and knees tremble. Sloane grips the edge of the counter as if it is the only thing anchoring her to the earth, and Sebastian presses his weight against her to keep her upright.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, lips trailing down the slope of her shoulder. “Be a good girl and come on my fingers. I want you drenched before I take you properly.”

Sloane’s core is a vice as she unravels, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as her mouth falls open in a silent scream. A surge of possessive pride courses through him—he is the only man who can gift her this pleasure, he is the only man with the honor of seeing such vulnerability. She is still shaking when he retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her sweet nectar.

She slumps forward a little, breathless. “Jesus—”

Sebastian knows he’s done a good job when she gets sacrilegious. He doesn’t offer much of a respite before spinning her around, swallowing her surprised shriek of laughter with a hungry kiss that is all teeth and tongue. He effortlessly lifts her by the waist, perching her on the edge of the flour-dusted countertop. Sloane senses the urgency, humming against his lips as her hands drift from his messy hair down to the clasps of his trousers. He leans away for a gulp of air and to watch as she tugs at the fabric, bunching up his shirt and pushing his pants down just enough to expose his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as soon as her delicate fingers wrap around him, the softness of her palm threatening to make him come right then. He blinks hard—he won’t last, but they have all evening, all weekend, to be slow. Right now, he’s desperate, needy for the feel of her cunt around his throbbing shaft. Her name comes out as a deep grumble, “Sloane.”

When he snaps his eyes open, her stormy gaze is already locked with his, pupils blown and expression just as wild as his. Sebastian doesn’t mean to be so rough when he yanks her hips to the edge of the counter, but her breathy laughter and sound of approval as she falls back is enough encouragement to spur him on. He bunches her dress up again, scooping her legs up so her ankles rest on the width of his shoulders.

With one hand he grips himself, pumping his length with a few strokes as he presses against the crux of her thighs. He pulls the soiled band of her panties to the side and drags the swollen tip of his cock against her entrance. If it were any other time, Sebastian might tease her more, edge both of their pleasure until it is too much to bear. But he is already hanging by a thread, the friction of silk and the tight, velvet heat of her encompassing him, welcoming him home.

He grips her thighs tight, pulling her closer as he slides halfway before snapping his hips forward to fill her completely. Sloane’s sharp gasp morphs into a deep moan and he repeats the motion over and over again. The recoil of his frenzied pace rattles through her body and she grips the edge of the counter, knuckles white as the flour that dusts the air and their bodies.  

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and slapping flesh, names murmured between pleading whimpers and desperate moans. Sebastian is unyielding, transfixed by the sight of his wife spread out beneath him, so beautifully undone as the pleasure he gives pushes her ever closer towards another release. As glorious as the image is, he can’t wait to shed their clothes and have his way with her more thoroughly, to worship every inch of her skin with his tongue and hands until she’s a writhing mess, begging for more.

He can feel the tight coil of his own release winding in his gut, his movements erratic as he pushes them both over the edge. With one hand braced on the countertop, he leans forward, almost folding her petite body in half as he loses the tempo and ruts against her like the uncaged animal he is. Sloane grips his forearm, nails biting into his flesh as her inner walls flutter and her body seizes. She cries out in blissful agony, and Sebastian echoes the mind-blowing sentiment, collapsing against her after spilling himself deep.

When there’s enough energy for their eyes to meet, they share a knowing grin—the night has only just begun.

After taking some time to satisfy their more practical hunger, the two eventually make their way to the bath, leaving the kitchen a mess to be cleaned up in the morning…or perhaps the morning after that. If Sebastian has it his way, they aren’t going to be leaving the bedroom any time soon.

For now, however, the two lay comfortably in the large, claw-footed bathtub of their ensuite, the heated water relaxing their aching muscles and washing the day away. Sebastian rests his head back against the porcelain rim, eyes closed as the steam soothes his body and soul. Sloane is settled against him, her back flush with his chest, their arms resting across her waist beneath the bubbly surface.

Silence used to be unnerving until he met her, learning that two people could simply exist. Sloane is the only person who understands him without the need for words, interpreting his moods and emotions with a simple glance or touch. To think only ten years have passed when it already feels like a lifetime—he hopes the love between them lasts for an eternity.

She lets out a contented sigh, her pinned up hair tickling his chin as she adjusts. He peeks open an eye, letting out his own cozy hum. His words are heavy and mumbled against her temple, “dun wunna get out.”  

“Me either,” she whispers with a breathy chuckle. “Are we losing our youthful energy?”

“I certainly hope not,” Sebastian huffs, tightening his hold around her. He and Sloane have always had a very active sex life—fervent, wild passion, unable to keep their hands off one another. “The day I can’t pleasure you with my body is the day you take me to St. Mungos to be put out of my misery.”

“So, in ten years?”

Sebastian pinches her thigh in response to her tease, causing her to yelp and squirm with laughter. “At least we’ll have more privacy by then, to experience embarrassing sex injuries without traumatizing our son.”

“Ant will be off to Hogwarts, and we’ll have an empty house.”

He smiles at the shared assumption Antony will inherit magic. It’s not always a forgone conclusion with wizarding parents, but he doubts their inquisitive son is a squib. Another thought crosses his mind, and he shifts to sit up a little, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Would we really be on our own?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Sloane is momentarily puzzled. “Oh, well…I suppose father will still visit, though as he gets older it’ll be best if we go to him—”

Sebastian traces his fingers across her abdomen until his palm is flush against her skin. “I’m not talking about Daideo.”

Judging by her soft inhale, she realizes her husband’s meaning. The thought of growing their little family has been tickling at the edges of his mind, the idea of Sloane growing round with another child and glowing with maternal beauty—it is a vision that makes his heart swell and his loins ache with excitement. 

“You know…” he drawls out his words, carefully pressing his lips against her damp skin. “I always thought we’d have more. A whole brood to envy the Weasley’s. Mornings filled with the patter of tiny footsteps and laughter…a house full of so much love.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her body somewhat tense beneath his touch. He glances up at her profile to see a hesitation in her expression he didn’t expect. As long as he knew Sloane, he thought she wanted the same—a large family to call their own. Had something changed?

“You don’t—”

“I do,” she quickly affirms, turning sideways in his embrace to look at him. “Perhaps I’ve been selfish in wanting to keep things the way they are. We’ve been so blessed with Ant…a part of me is…a little scared of changing that.”

Sebastian’s gaze softens and he dips his face closer to kiss her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he whispers, smiling against her lips. “I’m scared too. What if…our baby is a dark wizard, or worse, a Gryffindor?”

“Be serious!” she chides through her snickering, playfully smacking his chest.

“I am!” Sebastian is equally amused, snatching her hand to lace their fingers together. She studies him, as if trying to determine how sincere he is about expanding their family. He brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, the cold metal of her wedding band against his lips. “I want another child, Siobhan.”

The silver flecks in her storm-colored eyes shimmer as Sloane realizes immediately this isn’t some flippant suggestion, but a genuine choice, a heartfelt desire for their future. He studies her face, watching as she thickly swallows and slowly exhales, processing his words. The corner of her lip twitches as her cheeks flush with a brighter shade of pink, and not from the steam.

Sebastian takes that as a good sign.

“Even if I were to agree,” she eventually replies, not quite conceding to the idea, even as she bites back a smile. “It wouldn’t happen as soon as you say. I’d have to stop taking my contraceptives, not to mention the herbal tea you think smells like feet.”

“Because it does smell like feet,” he mutters, leaning forward to pick up the slow trail of kisses along her neck and collarbone. “Doesn’t mean we can’t…practice in the meantime.”

His grin widens into something wicked as he thinks to himself; “aren’t those the same precautionary potions you were taking when you fell pregnant with Antony?”

“That’s…beside the point.”

“Is it?” he hums. “That just means…well, I managed to beat the odds before, so who says I can’t do it again?”

Before Sloane can respond, Sebastian is lifting her from the tub as he stands, the soapy water splashing over the edge and onto the oakwood floor. She clings to him, a surprised shriek quickly turning into laughter as he carries her from the bathroom to their marital bed. He places her carefully across the fluffy duvet, her blonde hair spreading out across the pillows like a golden halo.

He covers her body with his own, hips slotted between her legs as he kisses her, their breaths hitching as his arousal presses against her belly. The levity fades as Sebastian’s hands smooth over her body, slow caresses pulling little sighs from her lips. It’s a struggle to hold back from ravishing her like he did before, his movements measured as he places kisses across her chest, balancing his weight on one arm so he can cup a breast in his hand.

Sloane arches into the sensation, her craned back as his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking it into a pebbled peak. He repeats the action with her other breast, spurred on by her labored breath and tiny moans. Her skin is still rosy from the heat of the bath, flecked with droplets of water that he laps up on his slow descent to the apex of her thighs. Sebastian spreads her a little wider, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he settles before her bared sex.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin. He glances up to lock onto her gaze. “The mother of our child—our children.”

Sloane’s only response is a strangled moan as he drags his tongue along the seam of her folds, licking up from her entrance to her clit. He wraps his lips around the bud, alternating between gentle sucks and flicks of his tongue. Her hips twitch up against Sebastian as he expertly coaxes out her pleasure, quickly bringing her to the edge of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches again as he moves one hand to assist, spreading her arousal with his tongue before plunging two fingers past her slick petals. Her core clenches and flutters around his invading fingers, a sharp whimper escaping her throat with each thrust and curl within her core.

“Right—right there,” she rasps, her words dissolving into another shaky moan as he strokes deep, fingertips rubbing against the spongy spot within her that sparks a tidal wave. Sloane trembles, hands snapping to clasp at Sebastian’s hair as her body tenses. “Ahh—Seb—Sebastian!”

He lets out an appreciative groan against her, lapping up her sweet release like a man starved. He’s consumed, rocking his hips against the sheets to give his aching cock some temporary relief. The exquisite sight of Sloane writing under his touch is something he’ll never tire of. Sebastian keeps his fingers wedged inside of her, gently coaxing her through the sensations as her walls flutter with the aftershocks of her climax.

“Mmm…” Sloane sighs as he gradually pulls away, giving her sensitive folds one last pass with his tongue before kissing her quivering thighs. He eventually pushes himself so he’s kneeling before her, one hand caressing her leg while he strokes his length with the other.

“Sloane,” her name comes out as a husky sound, a plea and a question all in one. He lowers himself, teasing the tip of cock against her, ready to plunge into her depths. “I need you to say it. Tell me you want—” he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, prodding against her entrance. “Tell me you want another child with me.”

“Yes,” she pants, eyes wide as she stares up at him. Sloane reaches for him and begins to loop her legs up around his waist, guiding him to her heat. She manages a reply between gulping gasps. “Sebastian, yes. I want—I need you to—” a moan interrupts her train of thought, and she presses her hips up, needy as ever for him to take her. “Mmm…please, please—f—fuck—a baby into me…”

Not expecting such filthy words from his wife’s mouth, something wild takes a hold of Sebastian’s mind. He lets out a gruff sound, something between a deep growl and rumbling moan.

“Roll over,” he grunts, not bothering to wait before leaning back on his knees to help flip her onto her stomach. Sloane lets out a surprised squeak as he yanks her up by the waist so she’s on her hands and knees.

He traces over each knob of her spine with his thumbs, squeezing the flesh of her arse as he widens his stance behind her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She pushes back against him, seeking his touch where she needs it most.

“Please,” she whimpers, looking over her shoulder at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Sebastian struggles to maintain his composure, steadying himself as unfiltered desire spills from her lips. Her plea, laced with the promise of creating new life, stokes the fire within him into a blazing inferno. With a less than gentle grip on her hips, he positions himself once more, pushing the crown of him just past her entrance before pulling her back to fill her in one powerful stroke.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, the hot stretch of her around his girth wiping his brain of any coherent thought. All that is left is the primal need to claim what is already his, mark Sloane from the inside and plant his seed deep within her fertile ground. It’s an overwhelming feeling, all encompassing, and one that surges through him with every thrust.

At first his movements are slow and deliberate, eyes locked on the lewd sight of his cock pulling out of her before driving back in. But it doesn’t take long before Sebastian picks up the pace, his pelvis slapping against her thighs as she rocks back to meet him. Every sound that escapes Sloane’s mouth is pure sin—sweet, high-pitched cries intermixed with the most ragged moans he’s ever heard.

He can feel the tension of her body as it responds to his unrelenting force, his rhythm faltering as her core clenches tightly around him. Sloane’s orgasm shakes through her entire body, her limbs spasming as she cries out, her back a beautiful arch. Sebastian control frays at the edges and he spirals, falling over the edge after her with one last surge of his hips. With a loud, guttural roar, he comes, the intensity of his release blurring his vison.

Sloane’s arms wobble until her front half collapses onto the mattress. Sebastian keeps her propped up as he gasps for breath, clutching her waist and hips as his cock continues to twitch inside her. The overstimulation causes her to shiver, and she whines into the pillow as he lets out a litany of curses and incoherent praise.

When he finally, painstakingly pulls away, his eyes snap down to the pearlescent evidence of his release trickling out of her and staining her thighs. By some miracle, Sebastian is able to stay upright, swaying a little as he rests on his heels and tries to blink the haze from his vision. Sloane slumps and he catches her boneless form, easing her down against the sheets where she practically melts with a sated sigh.

As soon as she is splayed out on her back again, Sebastian collapses across her petite form, barely keeping his weight from suffocating her as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the aroma of her sweat-slick skin. Her arms lazily encircle his neck, and he grins as a raspy laugh falls from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she softly exclaims, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, one threading through the hair at the back of his neck. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” is all he can say with equally breathless amusement.

Perhaps of his own volition, or because he’s still burning with a longing to see her fat with his child, he lowers his groin down to drag against her mons. They both hiss at the contact, Sloane’s nails biting into his skin. Sebastian lifts himself up just enough so he can glance down between their bodies.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, wondering if he’d even be able to stop if she says it is.

But Sloane shakes her head and arches against him, silently pleading for more, as if she is also being driven by some unseen force. He shifts his balance, lifting one of her legs to slip around his waist before guiding himself back to her awaiting centre. It might be his imagination, but he can almost feel his cock pushing his come back into the depths of her channel. Sebastian bites down on his bottom lip until the taste of copper hits his tongue.

He stays close, their chests pressed against each other as he rolls his hips, keeping a languid pace for both their sakes. Sloane sighs, hitching her other leg up to ensure he strokes deep, and rests her head against his as he pants against her shoulder.

“I love you,” she declares, and it doesn’t matter that it’s the thousandth time she’s said it, the words encompass Sebastian in a warmth he never wants to leave.

He finds the strength to lift his head so their lips can crash together, matching the fervor below. He reaches to grab one of her arms, interlocking their fingers before pressing her hand into the mattress near her their heads. “I love you.”

Sebastian slips his other hand under her and lifts her hips, supporting her lower back as he grinds down, straining to keep himself balanced so he doesn’t crush her. It’s a gradual build this time, but the lingering sensitivity brings about their shared climax much sooner. Sloane’s breath hitches and her thighs tighten around his waist, her barely audible whimper preceding more whispered declarations of love. He spills again with a strained grunt and remains nestled against her as they gradually float down from a kind of bliss they write stories about.

Sebastian could drown in the storm of her eyes and the way she looks at him with all the affection in the world. He slides his hand across her waist to splay his fingers across her belly, the two sharing a quiet, knowing look. Realistically, he knew it was unlikely anything would come from their union—unions—this anniversary weekend. But that didn’t mean Sebastian couldn’t hope or pray that he and Sloane would be blessed with a child once again.

Little does he know.

Five years later

“Pancakes!”

“Oatmeal!”

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Sebastian flicks his gaze from one child to the next, feeling a little more than frazzled as his twin boys argued, Cailean and Finlay debating as fiercely as any four-year-olds can. Their shouting turns into menacing glares, prompting Sebastian to glance at his eldest who was sitting at the table watching his siblings with an annoyed expression.

“What do you want, Ant?”

“To be excused,” the eight-year-old mumbles in reply.

Sebastian frowns, still unsure of how to deal with Antony’s sullen mood-swings. He looks at his youngest, Ewan, who was sitting in the highchair with a cheeky, toothless grin. At least he hasn't started talking in complete sentences—yet.

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Cailean and Finlay start shouting again, this time chasing one another around the kitchen, prompting Ewan to erupt into a fit of giggles. Antony rolls his eyes and shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh that sounds well beyond his young years.

Sebastian never thought in a million years that at the age of thirty he would have four sons, his genetics wreaking havoc on his peaceful life and blessing him with nearly identical copies of himself. With the exception of the twin’s blonde locks and Ewan’s grey eyes, most days it feels like he is surrounded by children under the guise of Polyjuice. And they don't just look like him, either. They all have some aspect of his wild personality, making him mumble apologies to the afterlife—was he this much of a handful for his mother and father?

Maintaining his patience, Sebastian manages to stop the toddlers in their tracks, trying not to laugh at their scrunched-up faces when they attempt to protest.

“Hey now, remember we’re supposed to be quiet so mummy can sleep,” he explains in a gentle tone, thinking of his wife who has been plagued with a cold for the last few days. “Why don’t you all go outside and play—”

“NO!” the twins shout simultaneously, and Sebastian really considers he’s been cursed, the universe delivering him his karma in the form of two rambunctious offspring.

Cailean and Finlay wiggle out of their father’s grasp and attempt to run out of the kitchen, only to skid to a halt when they see their mother standing in the archway. She’s a little bleary from a restless sleep, but as beautiful as ever. The two flash sweet smiles, folding their hands behind their backs.  

“Now you’ve done it,” Antony mutters, scooting his chair up to stand. He plucks Ewan from the highchair, the babe reaching out to squish his older brother’s cheeks. They exit through the nearby door to the garden.

Sloane tilts her head as she observes the remaining two, who are trying their best to appear innocent. She tuts, shaking her head. “You heard your father.”

They are out of the house as if they’ve apparated, dashing through the kitchen door. “Yes, mother!”

With all four children outside, Sebastian sighs, welcoming Sloane’s embrace as she comes to stand next to him. He greets her with a soft peck, “sorry if we woke you.”

“It’s alright,” she says softly, plucking a stuck piece of parchment from his back that reads, dummy. Sloane stifles her laughter as Sebastian groans. “I’m saving this for later.”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist as he rests his chin on her shoulder, the two glancing out the kitchen window to watch their children play. Antony is sitting in the grass with Ewan in his lap, chatting to his babbling baby brother about the plants and flowers that surround them as Cailean and Finlay run themselves ragged, screaming incoherent, toddler obscenities.

As hectic as the days are, Sebastian enjoys his life as a busy father and husband, finding comfort in the chaos. He kisses Sloane’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I love you.”

She tilts her head back to look up at him and he raises a curious eyebrow at her devious expression. He nervously chuckles, “what is it?”

Sloane grins.

“I’m pregnant.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Twelve. "The Bigger Picture."

Well hey! I wanted to update this one more time before the new year and here it is! With some time to spare! I hope you all enjoy this, cuz it has been a long time coming. There is a moment near the end of this that I have been planning since before I started writing this fic, so I hope this lives up to expectation. Series masterlist here.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.3K. Charles Lee Ray/Tiffany Ray Valentine/FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings. Polyamory. Fluff. Date. Stealing. General Crime. Making Out. Grinding. Vaginal Fingering. Raw Sex. Rough Sex. Forced Cream Pie. Spanking. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Scratching. Multiple Orgasms. Kink Without Communication. Choking. Overstimulation. Cigarette Burns. Feelings.

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You wake up with feet that are a little sore from so much dancing in your heels, hair that is a mess and caught in the middle between him and her. Tiffany is already awake and starting to untangle herself, she gets out of bed and fuck, it’s cold! You huff and roll over, Chucky already pulling the blanket up higher to cover you both, you nudge closer into him, and he slips an arm around you. Ahh, blessed warmth, much better.

This is such a comfort, you find yourself craving this more and more the nights you are away, wishing you could wake up to Chucky and Tiffany, you cuddle more into the firmness of his chest as you muse silently. Your nose traces up his throat as you inhale, smelling the slight lingering of last night’s post sex cigarette, a smell you have come to associate with them and find yourself enjoying in a way you never used to B.C. (Before Chucky)

You can hear Tiffany messing around in the ensuite bathroom, you still doze a little until she comes back into the room, the drawers start to open as does the closet and is she already getting dressed?

Chucky must be thinking the same thing, after another minute of rummaging, he lifts his head up slightly and asks Tiffany, “Where the fuck are you off to in such a hurry?”

She laughs, a beautiful melodic sound, you look over your shoulder to see her fondly shaking her head, “I told you last night before I left for my date, I had that appointment this morning, and then the thing after it, and after that too, basically my whole day is booked up so I gotta go.”

You sit up and Chucky groans, “Don’t you get up too-” Ignoring him and the chill on your exposed skin, arms crossing over your naked chest, nipples hardening with the temperature shift and attempting to ease it, you ask her, “You didn’t say anything last night, everything okay?”

She smiles in that comforting way you love, she comes over, she is half dressed, bra and jeans on, she leans down and kisses you, it’s soft yet firm, a hint of tongue and totally Tiffany, your eyes fall closed. As soon as you lean in she is pulling away with a laugh, you pout, eyes opening back up to see her apologetic expression as she says, “I'm sorry baby, really, I wish I could spend the whole day with you both and I hate to have to run, but I can carve out a little time to see you later this week?” 

You sigh, pretending to be put out, hiding the true reaction inside, the one of your heart fluttering over getting to see her multiple times this week, “I suppose I can live with that.” 

“You’re too good to me.” She straightens up and walks over to the dresser, she pulls out a tank top and slips it on before reaching for some socks. You finish watching her get dressed, and then she is sitting at her make-up vanity, you love to watch her do this, you bring your knees up and hug them as you observe her. She applies powder, liner and eyeshadow, lipstick in such a precise manner, knowing exactly the look she is striving for, you enjoy the domestic nature of it and the quiet of the morning, lose yourself in sweeps of colour over her lips and the clink of the jewellery she puts on, the hum of the radiator kicking on.

She is done with the process all too soon, she comes over and gives you both a peck goodbye, Chucky tries to entice her into a deeper kiss which makes her smack his shoulder in response before she breaks off, “Asshole-” She says it with approximately zero bite, tone lighter as she said next, “-love you Chuck, I’ll see you later, bye!” 

“Bye Tiff, love you.” Chucky echos your statement, you hear her shoes being put on, and the door slamming closed, and she was gone. 

You look at him, he is laying back, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his chest, he is looking up at you and with a smile he says, “Hey.” 

A small laugh as you greet him in kind, “Hey.” 

“Just you and me, hmm?” He reaches over to his pack of cigarettes that had been left on the nightstand, you watch him do the usual moves of pulling it out, putting it between his lips and grabbing his lighter. You hum in response as he lights up, once he exhales he says, “Almost feels like you’ve been favouring Tiff over me.” 

You laugh, “I have one date with her just us and you start getting jealous?”

He scoffs and bites back as he flicks the lighter open and closed, a habit you've seen him do many a time while smoking, “You have had more than one solo date with her, and no I am not fucking jealous, I just wanna spend some time with you too.” 

“Just us?” The question is soft in tone and content as you look in his eyes.

He takes another drag, maintaining eye contact, confirming on the exhale, “Yeah, just us.”

You lay back down beside him, facing him on your side, and you say, “Well I’m off today. What are you doing?” 

His eyes squint in consideration, “Not a damn thing. Why?” 

“I was thinking how about we spend the day together then? I have nothing planned, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” You grab his hand that wasn’t holding his smoke and pull it towards you, kissing the back of it.

He grins at that, fingers run over the curve of your cheek and says, “Soon as I am done with this-” he gestures to the cigarette, “-we’ll get presentable and go out for breakfast and then plan what we are gonna do.” 

Sounds perfect. You and Chucky laze in bed a little longer, enjoying the warmth of the sheets, before finally starting the day. As you are using your finger to give your mouth a once over with some toothpaste, you wonder if you are going to be spending the night more often if you should keep a toothbrush here, you wonder if that is too soon to suggest, or is it okay to ask because you are their girlfriend?

You end up borrowing some clothes so you aren’t running around in last night's clubbing attire, you can get away with a pair of Tiffany’s pants and one of her tops, your shoes and coat are fine and honestly, after brushing your hair and stealing some eyeshadow and lip gloss? You feel pretty cute, you think she’d approve, the heels elevate the whole thing.

Spring is coming in, you can feel it in the nearly aggressive sunshine, the warm wind starting to blow, you are glad you got that last skate in, no way would you be able to have another go at the rink until next November at the earliest. You and Chucky are holding hands as you make your way to the usual diner, the sidewalk is wet, much less icy from the thawing of winter hitting the city, you think that you kind of love that breakfast food is becoming your thing with them. 

Once seated in the usual booth, steaming food in front of you and a mug in your hand, the conversation flows over what to do, starting with a joke from you, “So what are you going to do to win my favour? Because I dunno if you’ve noticed, but Tiffany plans some superb dates.”

He nearly chokes on his coffee, setting his mug down, with a clearing of his throat, he asks, “And what was last night's date that was so stellar?”

“She took me out to my first gay bar.” You say nonchalantly, and he pauses for a second before cursing, “Fuck, that is good.” 

“Duh.” You taunt with a smile, and he says, “Well I can show you a good time too, and I don’t need an abundance of lesbians paired with flashing club lights and too loud music to dazzle you-”

You mouth the word, “dazzle” in question, disbelief that he said that as your eyebrows furrow, and he cuts in before you can make fun, “-shut it, point is, I can prove, by day's end, without a shadow of a doubt that I can give you a date as good as she does.” 

“I’m excited to see you try, doing it sans lesbians though will be a challenge.” The tone is playful, and he sighs as he starts cutting into his eggs, then pointing at you with his now egg yolk coated knife, “You need to have more faith in me.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you hum before setting the mug down, “You are right, so what are you thinking of for the rest of our day?”

A swallow before he imparts, “I feel like any day out like this needs to have some element of spontaneity, so here is what I think, we pick the main event and then see where the rest of the day takes us.” His offer held endless appeal. 

“And what do you think the main event should be?” You inquire, and he says simply, a gesture of the silverware in his hands, “The museum.” 

You like it, but still you ask, “Which museum? There’s kinda a lot of them in a city like Chicago.” 

He laughs, as if it is obvious, “The Art Institute Of Chicago.” 

Of course, where else would you go? You remember very vividly the conversation you had over pizza and sodas that night awhile back, after Tiffany spilled about his love of art, told you about that date he had with your shared girlfriend where he painted her. You suggested going to the museum sometime offhandedly, and him remembering and suggesting it first made you happy.

“I love it, let’s do it.” You gush, and he seemed pleased by your enthused reaction. 

Breakfast is delicious, he thoroughly enjoys the usual eggs, bacon, potatoes and toast, as do you the fruit and whipped cream and syrup laden waffles you decided on. You steal a bite or two of his hash browns, he gives you shit over it, a joking call of, “Hey!” 

You mollify him with some bites of waffle in trade, which he accepts without complaint.

Next up you go to throw money down for the meal, and he stops you, “Put that shit away, I got it.”

“You sure?” Asking as you bring your mug up to finish the remaining coffee.

He pulls out the appropriate bills and puts them down on the bill. “Yeah, honey, M’ sure, think of my masculine pride.” 

You laugh unapologetically, “Oh if I don't, who will?” 

A raise of his eyebrows, a mischievous smile as he starts to put his coat on, “Exactly. Now come on, got a whole day ahead, let's not spend it all in this diner, hm?”

That you more than agree with, your own coat shrugged on and you were off.

You had a good handle on the subway system and finding the nearest station and how to get to the museum was an easy enough task, it was near the water, totally too far to walk from the diner you all liked. The trip took less than an hour all in, the time filled with idle chat and comfortable silences. 

While you and he were on the train, you were seated, him standing and holding the bar above his head in front of you. He had his favoured long coat open, showing off the mostly buttoned red wine coloured shirt and dark-coloured slacks, he still had some gloves on to fight the lingering chill. 

“So you’ve been to this museum before?” You asked, and he gave a nod, “Yeah a few times, when I got the time and want to-” still holding the bar with one hand he made air quotes as he said, “-immerse myself in the arts.” 

You smile at how he said it, and ask, “And that is often?”

He shrugs as he tells you, “Yeah, often enough. It’s a good way to kill time, especially since they almost always have some new stuff or exhibits that are there for a shorter stint, hard to find a better place to wander for free.”

You had to agree, and you were very excited, the knowledge of him being an art lover and a painter was relatively new to you, and being in a place where you could talk on it at length and hear all his opinions? Sounded like a fantastic way to get to know him on a deeper level. 

The ride passes smoothly and once getting off at the right stop you both make your way to the museum. You had never been to this particular one, you’d been to others in the city sure, but this one had escaped you till now, that fact made this date all the more special in your eyes, sharing this brand-new experience and letting him take the lead, Chucky was good at that. You both had your coats off and holding them, folded over one arm, while you held hands with the other, making your way through the rooms. 

“So, I gotta know-” You begin, and he hums questioning, a look away from the impressionist work he had been eyeing and instead turning his attention to you. 

“-where did the love of art start?” 

He looks thoughtful for a moment, he usually speaks his mind easily, his mouth opens and words flow off his tongue, natural, him taking time to seriously think on something wasn’t the norm. “Probably sometime before I started school even. I was one of those kids that could be easily entertained with finger paints or a box of crayons and sheets of paper.” 

“Early start then.” You say, and he tells you, “Yeah, kinda always remember being into it, sure it has changed, shifted, focused over the years, but it’s one of those-” he makes a gesture with his hand, a kind of wishy-washy movement, eyes up to the ceiling, before snapping his fingers when finding the word he wants, “-constants! Yeah. It’s been a constant in my life. You?”

“Eh, I took a few art classes in school, but it all kinda stopped after that, the most artistic and creative thing I do now is nail art.” You say, holding your joined hands up, showing off your current manicure, a deep sapphire blue and sparkly. 

“Still a skill, still pretty, besides, I dunno if my ego could take it if you were a better artist than me.” He teases, and you laugh, he piles on before you can respond, “I mean it! I need to be the most creative person in the relationship, otherwise what am I bringing to the table?” 

“Oh, I dunno, your sparkling wit? Your car I still haven’t seen or ridden in? Your company? Your dick?” You list off, grinning all the while, and he says, “First off, thank you, second off, when the salt is off the roads you’ll get a ride in her, third, so true it is a gift and I think that last point should be higher up on this list.” 

“My mistake, you are right, my sincere apologies to you and your fantastic dick.” You pivot next, “So, back to the topic at hand, what do you like the most about art?” 

“Full of questions-” He starts, and you scoff, “Oh fuck off, you can’t have it both ways! We are in an art museum, you are THE artist boyfriend, the supposed creative one in our little three-way relationship, this is the time and place for this, so please, expound.”

You said it in a very comical way, and he laughs this time, head thrown back, and you add on, “Seriously Chuck, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, your girlfriend is over here begging for you to brag on your artistic knowledge, do I gotta wave you in like a plane coming in for landing, just so I can lap up your every word? You’ve got a good thing here, take advantage of it, perhaps?” 

“Quit while I’m ahead, hmm?” He offers, and you release his hand only to link your arms together, pull him nearer as you walk, “Yes, precisely. Now. Tell me, puh-lease, what do you like most about art?”

“I think it’s the practical application, the execution, the reward of it. You think of something, you put in some work, you see the results, and when you nail it? When it matches your expectations? It’s satisfying, a kind of rush on its own, an odd kind of power in the feeling.”

You sigh, “I can relate to that, not in a big way, but in small ones, seeing the fruits of your labour is one of life’s pleasures.” 

“Exactly! It’s a pleasure, the work can sometimes be hard, or frustrating or whatever, but it is a pleasure.” 

You and he share a look, and you feel good, hearing him talk about something he is passionate about is good. 

The conversation grows, evolves, you ask about favourite artists, and he has ones he likes, but he doesn’t know much about them as people, said he didn’t care to know about their lives, just could appreciate their work. You pried a bit, and he pointed out aspects he liked, colours, use of light and shadow, and he went on further, it wasn’t so much about technical skill but more personal than that. It was about how it made him feel, if he likes a work it isn’t about who it came from, or how expensive or old it was, or any other pretentious crap, it was about the complete work in front of him. The bigger picture.

He had some artists he liked, but he could be objective, he wouldn’t quote, “-be some dick sucker like oh everything this guy does is amazing, if I don’t like a subject or a pose looks weird, I’ll be honest about it, every work should stand and speak for itself, not be lauded just cuz what’s his face slapped his name on it.”

You listen to everything he has to say, you provide some of your own thoughts when he asked your opinions on paintings you stopped in front of. You’d on occasion ask what the true meaning and artist intent’s was on some work, and he laughed that off, “Who cares? I read some art books sure, but I mostly just looked at the pictures, or read how a couple particular brush and paint techniques worked, that is the important stuff.”

“Really? You think the original artist's intent doesn’t matter?” You asked, and he said, “Sure it can have some value, but you know what I find much more interesting?” 

“What?” He stopped your step and put his hands on your shoulders, he turned you around and steered you towards another work, a massive painting that took up several feet, no one else was around, he stopped you right in front of it. He leaned over your shoulder and said, “I’d find what you have to say about how this looks and makes you feel a thousand times more interesting over what the jackass who painted it was thinking or ‘intending to say’ with it.” 

He squeezes your shoulders and says as his hands falls away, “So!” He steps to be right beside you, he claps his hands once and then points, his eyes on you. “Enlighten me.” 

Wow. You weren’t sure what to say or where to start or why he was even doing this, you say, “Chucky…I…I’m flattered, sure but why?”

Your eyes meet his, and he looks confused, a cock of his head, and he says what might have been one of the sweetest things he ever has to you, “Why? Why I would find the opinion of my girlfriend, who I care for, and give so much of a shit about it is crazy, over, what? Some dead dude I have never met? Why I would value your insight on this work of art and what that says about you more than the idiot who put a brush to a canvas?”

When he laid it all out like that, it seemed painfully obvious, and you felt a little stupid, not from how he spoke to you, but because of the doubt you had in yourself to begin with. You say softly, “Yeah. I guess.” 

“Humour me?” He asks, and you can do that. You shake your head and breathe out, confidence still a bit shaky, but you are willing, you start. 

You take in the work, the people, figures walking in the rain, the architecture of the buildings, the wet cobblestones, the almost yellow cloudy sky. Taking a moment you let yourself think, as you look, let your eyes get naturally drawn along, and finally you speak, “It feels weirdly, lonely. Considering all the people depicted.”

He hums, and you say next, “The more muted colour emulates how a rainy day feels to walk through, so does the body language of the people. They aren’t enjoying being out there, it’s more rushed, trying to get somewhere, it gives me the feeling I get when I have to brave shitty weather because life demands it.” 

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Go on.” 

“I am left with a question though, this couple, here-” You point at the pair in the foreground to the right, sharing an umbrella, “-their gaze is somewhere off over there, I wonder what has their attention on a day like this, what they are looking at, what can make them linger for a moment in weather like this. I like a painting that lets you wonder about things like that. I like this one. It feels rooted in reality and human nature, even painted so long ago, also I love how wet the ground looks, it’s what sells it to me even without actually painting in the raindrops, the hazy quality of it all helps communicate that.” 

You look, and he isn’t looking at the painting, he is looking at you, and you are unsure of how long he had been doing that. “How was that?”

“Illuminating, obviously truthful, it was revealing about you, everything a guy could hope for when talking about art like this.” He sure can have a way with words sometimes. 

“So that is why you find this interesting? For what it can tell you about someone else?” You inquire, and he says, “That’s one reason sure, another is, I just like hearing what you think, now come on.” 

He starts to pull you away, and you look at the name of the painting as he does so, you laugh and ask, “Wait what about your thoughts about it?”

He looks over his shoulder and says with a smirk, “Baby, why do mine matter when you already nailed it?”

The shockingly sentimental fucker. “Ask me about the next one.” He offered, and you would take him up on that. 

Two hours flew by at the museum, when you are leaving the sun is higher in the sky, it is warmer still and both you, and he were happy. You feel a little high, you come away feeling like you have a better understanding of a side of him he doesn’t trust just anyone with, and you feel special. 

As you walk down the street, coats on but open, you wonder what to do next and soon enough an answer presents itself, you see a thrift store, and you decide to go in, browse about, because why not. 

You aren’t looking for anything in particular, except for some stuff that you could wear outside of work, something fun, a thing you can get just because you like it, and not because of the tips it could rake in. You are flipping through racks, as is he, and after a while you come across a shirt. It is cute, weirdly it reminds you of him and her, it is a more masculine style but in a colour and material Tiffany would totally rock. You think you could pull this off, wear a tank top under it and have quite a few buttons open, pair it with some pants and that would be a good look, and one you wouldn’t traditionally wear to work. 

You take the hanger off the rack and turn around, holding it out, “Hey, what do you think of this?” 

He looks over at you, a brief scan of his eyes over the garment in question and he smiles, “Oh, I love that.”

“Me too.” You then look at the price tag for the first time and your eyebrows raise, “Yeesh.” 

“What?” He asks and you say, “Expensive.” You look inside at the inner tag and see it is a higher end brand name, usually thrift stores don’t know what they have, but not this one apparently, they are all too aware how much this is worth. You have a couple bills you need to square away and as much as you like the shirt, it probably isn’t a smart idea. Putting it back with a sigh, you look at a few other tags, and apparently this is the cities most expensive thrift store. 

You both leave empty-handed and when you are down the street a few storefronts, he turns his head to you and says, “Hey.”

A quirk of your brow, paired with a sideways glance, you respond, “Hey?”

He opens his coat and pulls a wad of fabric out, he tossed it to you, “Catch.” 

You reach out and snatch it out of the air, “Woah!” You stop, holding it, you unroll it, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, you bought me the shirt? When? You were beside me basically the whole time and also fuck, it is SO expensive, you really shouldn’t have.”

“Oh don’t worry. I didn’t buy it.” He said, an air of mystery and a shit eating grin on his face. It takes all of two seconds to connect the dots. Your voice drops, “Chucky, you stole this?”

He says in a way that shows how proud of himself he was, “Yeah, I did.” 

“Oh my God, why?” You were genuinely shocked, and he said, “I saw how bad you wanted it, and that place is charging highway robbery, so fuck them, I’d much rather you get that shirt than some rich asshole.” 

You step forward, shirt gripped in one hand, arms hooking around his shoulders, hands behind his neck, you say genuinely, “Thank you.” 

He is staring into your eyes, mouth so close to yours as he says, “Hey for you? Anything, anywhere, anytime.” 

He calls you variants of sweet all the time, but you think he is the real sweet one, especially today. You kiss him on the street corner there, revel in it, before he breaks it, “C’mon, not a good idea to linger at the scene of the crime.”

He leads you down the street, quickly, as you ask, “You got a lotta experience with this?”

He throws a look over his shoulder as he says, “Oh yeah, more than you know, haven’t you picked up on it by now? I’m a total bad boy.” You laughed then, if only you knew how true that statement was. 

Once you were another block away, you were wondering what to do next, and he said, “Well, to be perfectly honest, I think I want to see you in that new shirt.” 

You could do that, but before you could think of taking your coat off, he says, almost as if he'd read your mind, “Just that new shirt.”

Smooth as butter and very doable. Your place was closer to where you were than theirs, and also, you honestly just wanted to host him, so the effort was made, and you find yourself back at your place, you picked up light groceries on the way to make lunch eventually too. 

The door is unlocked, and you hold the door open, “After you.” 

He heads in, you follow, door closed, keys and bag dropped, coat hung up, and you take his as his own shoes come off. You tell him, “Welcome back.”

“Been too long.” He admits as he looks around, you go to the kitchen and start to put away the groceries, once they are in the cupboards and fridge you come back out, leaning on the door frame of the kitchen entryway, looking at him, “You want a drink?”

He was standing in your living room, a few feet away, “Sure, won’t say no to that.”

“Anything you are craving?” You ask, and he tells you, “You mean other than you?”

A look over your shoulder has him saying in a tone of mock innocence, a hand to his chest, “Oh, you mean for the drink? Nah, I’m not picky. Surprise me.”

Soda it is, you bring back a can for him and yourself, he has taken a seat on your couch, you come close, and hold out the can, he takes it with a simple, “Thanks.”

You set your can down on the coffee table and you step away, you pick up the new shirt from where you had set it down, hearing him crack open the can behind you and make your way back over, dropping the shirt on the couch beside him, you start to undress. Chucky’s eyes are immediately on you as the shirt comes up and off, you open the pants and slide them down until they pool on the floor, stepping out of them, leaving you in just your underwear. 

A move is made to pick up the shirt again, and he stops you, a hand on your wrist, “You forget what I said already?”

You hadn’t, but you liked him stepping in, taking charge, reminding you in that tone with a slight edge of warning to it. You grin and say, “Nope, just testing you.” 

He lets go of your wrist and sighs, “Swear to God, more playful than a puppy, that’s you.”

“You got my number, alright.” Your hands go behind yourself, you unhook your bra and slip it off, dropping it with the rest of your clothing on the floor and then your thumbs hook in the sides of your panties, you drag them down and now standing there totally naked, him drinking in the view all the while. “Don’t think I am ever gonna get tired of this.” 

Why would he? You feel the same, a partner stripping in front of you is a treat no matter what, it strikes a chord, what is that old saying? A sunset is beautiful whether the first time it’s viewed or the thousandth? You think there is something to that. 

“Flattery suits you.” The comment is light as you start to shrug on the shirt, it fits a little loosely around the waist, but doesn’t obscure your curves in any major way, the material feels good on your bare skin. It falls near your hips, you do up the two buttons in the middle, a fair amount of stomach and cleavage on display, you lean forward, a hand resting on the back of the couch near his shoulder, body brought closer for him to get a better view, “What do you think?”

His own drink has been abandoned on the side table, on the end of the couch that you keep your telephone on, hands coming forward to rest on your waist, thumbs rub, he says, “Looks better than I thought it would.”

His hands grip tighter, he pulls you nearer, and you allow it, you lean down, a knee comes onto the couch cushion he is seated on, and you kiss him, one of his hands slides onto your lower back, and soon you aren’t half standing bent over, you are on top of him, straddling him, seated comfortably on his thighs. It is one of those kisses that as soon as your lips tough you feel yourself filling with lightness and warmth, nerves coming to life and need curling low in your stomach.

Your hands find him the same way his do you, with an easy kind of intimacy, the kind that has been improving and developing, deepening as of late. Your fingers run over the back of his neck before starting to tangle into his hair, winding carefully and using that point of contact to draw him closer, and in response it has his hands running down your back and kissing you more fervently.

This is by no means the first time you’ve made out with Chucky, and not the first time you’ve done this solo, but it is the first time you’ve had him like this totally alone in your apartment. You do notice that the mood feels more intense this afternoon, the atmosphere a little hotter, a bit needier, you aren’t sure what it is, maybe the increased vulnerability earlier, it feels incredible and right, so you go with it. 

You feel lightheaded by the time his hands are on your ass, and he starts to lead you, helping you grind on him, and you feel that you are not the only one who is excited and wanting more. A particularly good grind has your mouth breaking apart from his, a moan falling freely, it gets louder when his mouth doesn't relent and attacks your throat. It is messy, teeth bite and your body tenses, you can't help it as you grind down, you curse his name, and he says yours in kind. You tug on his hair, and you get the wanted response, he bites you again, harder. Yeah, you don’t want to be in the living room any longer. You remove your hands from his hair, and get up on slightly unsteady feet, you take his hand and pull, “Come on.”

You lead him to the bedroom, leaving the cans behind, and in less than a minute you are falling into bed. Next you are on your back, he is on top of you, his hand is between your thighs, fingers curling inside of you, causing your own fingers to fumble as you unbutton your shirt, letting it fall open. 

While all this feels incredible, you want him already, you reach out to the nearby nightstand and open it, fumble blindly and fingers catch on the cardboard of the box. You yank it out and towards you, moving to dump out the contents, only to find it empty. 

You groan and ask, “Do you have any condoms?”

“On me? No.” He sighs, fingers slowing, and the idea of not getting to fuck him simply won’t do. You've been seeing him for a while, and you are official, he is your boyfriend for fuck’s sake. It isn’t like he is fucking around to catch something, and you are on birth control, the condoms were meant to be an initial precaution anyway, and now? You feel like throwing caution to the wind.

“Fuck it, we don't need condoms anymore, I'm safe.” You breathe, his fingers curl into that sweet spot once more, and you bite your bottom lip. Giving him a pleading look, you tell him, “I want it raw.” 

Time isn't wasted, he trusts you and there is no asking if you are sure, he has been wanting this, badly. He pulls his fingers out, you are glad for it, no more foreplay is needed, you are aching for him, and you start to help him undress, you rush, and soon he is even more bare than you are. 

You don't let him get on top of you, as soon as he is on the bed, you get astride him, one hand wraps around the base of him, and you line him up, tip kissing your hole, he speaks, “Fuck hurry up, enough wasting time.”

 He doesn’t get the full sentence out before you begin to drop your hips. His hands grip your thighs as you sink down, taking more of him inside, the stretch is as amazing as it always is but combined with the feeling of him bare it is even better. Your eyes are on him, taking in his expression the same way you are sure he is, the wash of pleasure across his features is intoxicating when you settle down. You enjoy the feeling of fullness for only a moment before you start moving. The ride doesn't stay easy for long, his nails bite into your thighs, and you moan, your hips rise and fall, you adjust, pitching forward so you hit the spot you need, grind inside and out beautifully, a hiss of pleasure sucking the air through your teeth as you grapple with the intense feeling.

You've had a good amount of sex so far, but this afternoon, it's different. He is more intense, rougher, you aren't on top for long. You work yourself up, he helps, encourages, or rather demands you find release, and it works, the cocky half smile, brows knitted together as he tells you to, “Go on, do it.”

His words are what tips you over when you are close, you cum while gasping his name, and before you are even through the pleasurable spasms he is taking over. 

The position is switched, quickly, he manhandles you, and you end up face down, ass up, your cheek to the covers and he roughly renters you, one hand gripping the back of your shirt, the other in your hair. He is in deep immediately, every thrust in grinds over that perfect spot inside but still, goes further past that, he bottoms out and that is accompanied by a slight stab of pain. It has you loud, like potentially get a noise complaint loud and his ego eats it up, increases his efforts. The mix of pleasure and pain is fantastic, he pulls your hair, and it's like both points are connected, every tug on your hair causing your cunt to pulse and ripple around him, threatening to milk him early.

The words he spits are degrading, talk of what a slut you are for not only letting him fuck you like this, but for clearly loving it, and so loudly at that. You do love it, every scratch of his nails and slap to your ass, the loud skin on skin of your bodies meeting, you cum again pinned under him minutes later, his chest to your back as he taunts you, “Cumming again so soon?” 

You are squirming, weak, your body is failing you, legs slipping out from under you and that isn't going to do so another position is found. Once you are on your side, one leg brought up, knee to chest, and he slides back in. His hands are now focused on your throat, they wrap around, and he squeezes, the pressure and slight lack of air has you wide-eyed, pleasure renewed as he thrusts with abandon, no care for a sense of rhythm, you've had yours a few times over, now he's getting his. 

Even with all the rough treatment, the bruises that will surely form tomorrow and him still getting so deep at this angle he is battering your cervix you experience a new sensation, ripped to the edge, your legs together how they are squeezing and putting just enough pressure on your clit to aid as much as needed, but this orgasm you experience is derived much more from pain than pleasure. On your come down, weak and struggling to breathe with his hands around your throat, and with you gripping firmly at his wrists, he reaches his end, a few more sure thrusts, and he is cumming raw inside of you.

He didn’t ask, as if being allowed to fuck you raw was all the permission he needed, like it was a question he never thought even needed to be asked, he is inside you raw? Cumming into your pussy is a give in. As he unloads in you with a groan of your name that is so arousing it sends a shiver through you and causes your cunt to clench around his shaft involuntarily, trying to draw every last bit of him out and into yourself.

His hands let go, you suck down a few deep breaths now that you are able, in a few minutes, you've untangled, laying beside each other. Your mind is quiet, you feel satiated, sore and happy, you ask him, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“What do you mean?” He leans over the edge of the bed, gets his smokes out of his pants pocket, and comes back onto the bed, carton and lighter in hand. He lays back and starts the ritual of lighting up, and you are reminded of this morning. You laugh as you respond to him, “What do you mean, what do I mean? Look at my ass! Redder that tomato soup.”

“Figured why not try something new? Besides, it seems like you really enjoyed yourself, came yourself stupid, seriously, how many orgasms was that?” He quips, cigarette lit and exhaling, a healthy lungful. 

“Who counts?” You joke, your shoulder nudging his. 

This day has been one of your favourite in recent memory, a truly fantastic date, you feel unbearably happy, honestly the sex with them both has already been some of the best you’ve ever had but this afternoon, you feel like you’ve unlocked another level. You feel like your compatibility is ever-increasing, you feel soft, warmth, content beyond measure. 

He hums, amused by your joke, and you decide to take it further, “But seriously, wasn’t expecting all that, trust me I am not complaining, I did love it, just didn’t know you had all that in you. Anything else you are hiding from me?”

“I am an incredibly deep individual, I contain multitudes that will continue you to surprise you, I promise.” The look in those intense eyes, you believe him and yet you can’t help it, an unshakable urge to twist your finger in an open wound. “Oh, I dunno, I doubt you have that much more that could shock me.” 

“Oh yeah?” He gives you a considering look, as if mentally weighing his options, before he sits up, one hand rests on the back of your neck, he leans in and kisses you, slower than before, a searing meeting of your lips and his that could melt you, completely ruin you if he so desired it and then, the twist he promised. 

His other hand, the one with the cigarette held between two fingers, comes down, he touches the burning tip to your thigh and your whole body responds, you tense, attempt to move away, but he doesn’t let you. He presses the cigarette closer, twisting, burning you deeper as his tongue parts your lips, his tongue touches yours and once again, joy and agony meet, a new experience foraged that when both points of contact lift, you feel changed on some level. Your eyes had closed when you were overcome by what he had done to you, now they opened to see him, that wide grin, face still mere inches from yours as he asked, “How was that? Surprising enough?” 

His gaze drops for a moment, his thumb passes over the fresh burn, and you can’t help it, everything has built up, it all swells, and you gasp out, “I love you.”

[terabyteturtle]

💜 Kazuya Mishima SFW Alphabet 💜

This is extremely self-indulgent, I'm not gonna lie. This man has been on my mind 24/7 recently, so I just couldn’t help but write a ton (I actually had to shorten it because it came out waaay too long)! Because I’m a fluff maniac, I made sure this was jam-packed with wholesomeness. Hope you like it!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Kazuya is definitely not the most affectionate, at least not initially. It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable giving or receiving any sort of affection. Gentle physical touch is not something he’s used to, so he’ll tense up whenever you give him a hug or plant a kiss on his cheek. However, the longer you're together and the more you show your love for him, he'll get more comfortable and reciprocate. With Kazuya, all gestures of affection are small, simple, and given in private. He’ll frequently give you hugs or quick pecks on the forehead while you’re at home, but he’ll almost never do any of this in public. Though every so often, if you're talking to a friend or coworker of yours, he'll come up behind you and put an arm around your waist. It's subtle, but really sweet coming from Kazuya.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Kazuya doesn't really have friends, aside from maybe Bruce or Anna. He intentionally keeps most people away from him, so the fact that you managed to achieve friendship status is a lucky blessing. As a best friend, you and him would be a dynamic duo. The friendship would probably start at G Corporation, with you either being an executive of some sort or one of the lab workers running tests on him. As an executive, you’d probably run into him at business meetings. As a lab worker, you’d get the pleasure of seeing him every day, checking his vitals and making sure everything ran smoothly. Either way, the two of you would end up having many conversations, becoming best friends over time. At work, you two always get straight to the point, being as productive as possible. While he still retains his grumpy nature, he'd be more casual around you, maybe even cracking jokes once in a while with his signature frown still plastered on his face. It's strange seeing him try at humor while still looking very serious, but for you, it makes it funnier. The most important thing about your friendship, however, is that both of you can rely on each other for anything. Kazuya knows that you're the only person he can shoulder his burdens with, the only one who cares deeply for him. He feels comfortable opening up to you and only you, and he wants you to feel the same with him. If you ever need anything, whether it's a cup of coffee or a shoulder to cry on, he's there for you.

C = Comfort (How do they comfort you? Are they good at it, or are they kinda awkward? How do they like to be comforted?)

If he sees you upset, his first instinct is to launch a whole bunch of questions onto you, asking you what happened and why you're upset. Kazuya is only trying to help, but the way he does so can be pretty overwhelming and difficult to handle. But this won't last long, as he'll quickly notice how distressed you are and figure out that you need comfort. He will give you the biggest hug, lay you down next to him, and hold you until you feel better. Kazuya is pretty good at comforting, unless you need some input from him. Giving advice is not his strong suit, but he’ll try his best for you. When it comes to comforting him, it can be kind of difficult. Much like affection, comfort is an alien concept to Kazuya. At first, he’ll shrug off any attempt you make, but over time, he’ll realize that sometimes even he needs a hug every once and a while. Speaking of which, hugs are the best way to comfort him. Holding him is the quickest way to make him feel better after a tough and stressful day. You don't even have to say anything. Your presence alone is comforting enough.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He'd definitely want to settle down with you at some point. After everything he's gone through, a steady, secluded life with you sounds ideal. But beware—this man has never had to cook in his life. Growing up, he's always had servants to do it for him. Even in his later years, G Corporation supplied him with food and shelter in return for his services. When he took over the company, he made enough money to hire personal chefs and dine at fancy restaurants every night. If you give him a cookbook, he might not fare too badly, but don't expect a high-quality meal. In terms of cleaning, your shared living space will be spotless. Kazuya prefers to keep his spaces neat and tidy. In his mind, a clean environment is a healthy one (not to mention Heihachi totally would've beat him for making a mess when he was a kid; he won't admit it, but the trauma is still there).

E = Ending (If they had to break up with you, how would they do it?)

He would only end things if he felt it was too dangerous to continue the relationship. Kazuya would become colder around you than usual. He wouldn't pay much attention to you, he would walk away if you try to give him affection, and whenever you ask him what's wrong, he won't answer you. Eventually, when you feel like you've reached your limit, he'll sit down with you and explain that he thinks it's best that you don't see each other anymore. He'd end it in the most blunt, stoic way possible, but deep down, it hurts him to have to do this. Kazuya loves you deeply, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something were to happen to you because you were with him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Originally, marriage was something he didn’t want to consider. The thought of committing to someone was something he was averse to. But the more time he spent with you, the more it dawned on him that marriage meant much more than he’d previously imagined. It would take years for Kazuya to even think about getting married. With him, it requires a lot of time to build trust in someone, especially in a partner. But once you've completely earned his trust, he'll be ready to make a commitment.

G = Gentle (How tender are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, he's as careful with you as possible. Kazuya knows he's strong, and he worries he might somehow hurt you by accident. Sometimes, you have to remind him that you're a human being and not a glass vase. Emotionally, he's hard as a rock. He's very serious and keeps his emotions under a tough, protective shell. With enough time and patience, however, Kazuya will eventually soften up and bring his walls down around you.

H = Hugs n' Cuddles (Do they like hugs/cuddles? What are they like? How often do they happen?)

He won’t like them initially, but that will change the more you expose him to it. With guidance and a whole lot of love, he’ll find that he really enjoys hugging and cuddling you! His hugs are the absolute best! Considering how tall and muscular he is, it's easy for him to engulf you into a heartfelt embrace. Plus, he's always super warm for some reason, so you get the added benefit of having your own personal heater! His cuddles are pretty much the same way. Kazuya loves it when you're lying together, and your head is resting on his chest while his arms are draped over you. One way or another, he will have his arm (or arms) wrapped around you, making you feel safe and protected. Expect hugs and cuddles to happen every evening and every night as you two fall asleep. He's very busy during the day, so when he comes home from work, all he wants to do is indulge in your presence.

I = I Love You (How quickly do they tell you they love you?)

Like with most other things, it takes years for him to tell you this. Even after he puts all of his trust in you, it's still difficult for him to vocalize his feelings. Because of this, Kazuya usually shows his love through acts of service or, later on, gift-giving and physical touch. However, he'll eventually come to the realization that words are just as important. Sometimes people just need to hear that someone cares for them. He knows he sure did. At that point, he makes a mental note to say those three words next time he sees you, and when he does, he'll pour his whole heart into it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Unfortunately, Kazuya can get pretty jealous, but it's not because he thinks someone else will whisk you away with some sweet words and a rose. In fact, it's the exact opposite. He's worried someone will take you and cause you pain or discomfort. He trusts you, but he doesn't trust anyone else. If he's around, he'll stand right next to you and put an arm around your waist, keeping a close eye on both you and the other person. He'll introduce himself as your significant other and will quietly attend whatever conversation you're having. If he notices any signs of discomfort from you, he'll give you a reassuring squeeze and guide you away from them. And if the other person dares to make snide remarks toward you, or even worse, lay a hand on you, they will be facing the wrath of the Mishima. The Iron Fist of Darkness does not mess around when it comes to someone harassing the love of his life. He doesn't care who they are; he will Electric Wind God Fist their heads in, if necessary.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The nature of his kisses largely depends on his mood. If he's feeling happy, he'll give you a quick little peck. If he's feeling calm or relaxed, the kisses will be slower, longer, and sweeter. When Kazuya is angry or in a more spicy mood, they'll become sloppy and primal, fueled by passion and desire. He likes kissing you on the forehead and on the lips. The forehead is nice and easily accessible, perfect for quick pecks. Meanwhile, the lips are saved for more intimate kisses, since he feels he can show more love with lip kisses than any other type. If both of you are in a pretty spicy mood, however, he'll immediately go for the neck. But no matter what mood he’s in though, Kazuya loves it when you kiss his scars. It reminds him that you love him, even after all he’s been through.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children and what are their thoughts on them?)

Kazuya doesn't really spend time around children, nor does he have any particular thoughts on them. If he interacts with a kid, he's very indifferent and blunt about everything, no matter how the kid may act. Children are children, nothing more. They're tiny, innocent people who have a lot of life left to experience. Sometimes, kids will remind him of a fond time with his mother, or will make himself wish he'd had a regular childhood, but he'll shake all of that off quickly. All in all, he doesn't have much of an opinion on children. In terms of having children with you, that's when he starts getting emotionally conflicted. If you want to have children with him, then he wants to make you happy, but at the same time, he worries that they might end up like the last one. Kazuya hates the idea of two Jins potentially walking the Earth; he's already got his hands full with one, the last thing he needs is another.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Kazuya gets up early, since he needs to be at work for a certain time. That, and sometimes he just goes to work early because he doesn't trust most of the goons working at G Corporation. Since he likes holding you while you sleep, he makes sure you're awake before he has to get up. He'd feel bad about moving you off of him while you were still asleep, especially if that caused you to have a rude awakening. So, to keep you as peaceful as possible, Kazuya will wake you up by giving you a kiss on the forehead, and if that doesn't work, he'll kiss your lips. It wakes you up just enough to shuffle yourself off of him, but not to the point where you couldn't fall back asleep again if you wanted to. For breakfast, he usually just makes a protein shake and leaves, but if you're up and want to cook him something, he'd deeply appreciate it. As much as Kazuya likes protein shakes, it's nice to eat something else every once in a while, especially if it's as special as a homemade meal from his lover. Make sure to feed him a lot of protein, though. Kazuya needs to retain his physique somehow.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Unless there's some sort of work event or party he has to go to, nights with Kazuya are always about unwinding and relaxing from the stress of the day. No matter what, your conversations always start with the day's events and how you two are feeling. From there, you and him will talk about whatever comes to mind, whether it be some crazy thing on the news or something as mundane as work. Once you both have eaten dinner, you'll settle down on the couch, put on the TV, and just indulge in each other's company. It's simple, but it never fails to relax you. When you guys get ready for bed, you'll cuddle up close to him as he wraps both of his arms around you. If either one has any last-minute things they want to talk about, then the other is all ears. If not, or once all has been said, you'll kiss each other goodnight and fall asleep quickly, the soothing presence of one another helping you sleep soundly.

O = Open (At what point would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or take their time with it?)

On the first couple dates, he'll reveal all of the simple stuff. What he likes, what he dislikes, what his hobbies are, all of the basics. Once you've been together for a couple months, Kazuya will start revealing some more details about himself, like his rivalry with Heihachi, experiences from the King of Iron Fist Tournament, and faint, happy memories with his mother and grandfather. These small, ordinary things will be spread periodically throughout the first few months of your relationship. After that point, he’ll stop for a little while. When it’s been a little over a year, Kazuya will randomly sit down with you one night, calmly saying there are some things he’d like to explain. He’d then proceed to spill everything. He'll tell you why he hates his father so much. He'll tell you about his adopted brother and the abuse they underwent together. He'll tell you the truth behind his lineage, about the horrifying trait that is the Devil Gene. As calmly as possible, Kazuya will unveil all of it. Well, almost all of it. There are some secrets he feels he must withhold in order to keep you safe.

P = Patience (How patient are they?)

Kazuya is not the most patient person in the world. When it comes to work, he has very little patience for mistakes, overdue tasks, or incompetence of any sort. He's cutthroat and gets straight to the point. You can't beat around the bush with him. With you, however, he's a little more forbearing. He knows and cares for you a lot more than his subordinates, so it's a little easier for him to tolerate your mistakes. If Kazuya does begin to lose patience with you, he tries his best to keep a level head. Luckily for you, you can't even tell he's impatient half the time because he looks grumpy on a regular basis.

Q = Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or kinda forget everything?)

Kazuya has a remarkable memory. If he was able to remember stuff from before the age of five, he'll definitely remember a lot about you. When it comes to you, he remembers every detail, as well as every moment you've shared together vividly. Before, he used to hate the fact that he had such a good memory, as every traumatic event he's experienced is still crystal clear in his mind. But honestly, meeting you has changed his perspective on it. Nowadays, he couldn't be more grateful.

R = Remember (What is one of the most important moments of your relationship?)

The most important moment of your relationship was definitely when Kazuya opened up to you about the more serious topics of his past. That moment was the most truthful he'd ever been to anyone, and the most vulnerable he'd ever been in his entire life. That night pretty much sealed the deal for him when it came to whether or not he could trust you. On top of that, he gained a whole new admiration for you. Not that he didn’t admire you before, but seeing how determined you were, promising to help him out and fight alongside him, added fuel to his fire.

S = Security (How protective are they and how would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Kazuya is definitely protective, sometimes to the point where it might be a little overbearing. He'll want to be around you as much as he can, and when he can't be, he'll appoint G Corp soldiers to watch over you while he's gone. He'll want to be introduced to your friends so he knows that you hang out with people who are safe and reliable. His number one concern will be your safety, especially as long as Heihachi and Jin are alive. He means no ill intent, but there are times where you have to tell him to dial it down a bit. Once you tell him this, he'll realize that maybe he worries a little too much. Just a little, though. Kazuya doesn't want you to protect him for two reasons. First, he knows that he can protect himself and, although he finds it admirable, doesn't feel it's necessary. Second, he doesn't want you putting yourself in danger. In a dangerous situation, he'd rather you save yourself than risk your life to protect him. Kazuya would rather die knowing you're alive than live having watched you die.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, etc?)

It’s needless to say that this man will pamper you to no end. He knows your likes and dislikes like he knows the back of his hand. Dates, anniversaries, gifts, and the like would all center around things that you enjoy, or that hold significance to you. For a date, he’ll take you out to that one restaurant you loved when you were a kid and gladly let you order everything on the menu. For your anniversary, he’ll whisk you away to your favorite vacation destination. Is there something you've always wanted, but were never able to have? Kazuya will get it for you. And of course, he’d always ask for your input. If there’s somewhere specific you want to go for dinner, he’s already booked a reservation. Want to go out for a scenic drive? Hop in the car, sweetheart, it’s already warmed up for you. Screw it, he doesn’t care if that giant teddy bear in the store display is 300 bucks, he’ll still get it because of the way your eyes lit up when you saw it. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep you happy, especially after all you’ve done for him. In his mind, you deserve it.

U = Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a bad habit of closing himself off. It's difficult to communicate with him because he just can't get himself to open up sometimes. It's like his default setting is to hold everything in and keep others from seeing it. Also, Kazuya has trusted you with a lot of his secrets, but there are times where you can't shake the feeling that there's something else he hasn't told you...

V = Values (What do they value in a partner?)

Kazuya values someone who is kind and patient, but also strong-willed and determined. Someone like this would earn his respect quickly, as very few have a balanced mix of these traits. All of these remind him of his mother, who was a bright spot for him amidst some horrible times. Kindness and patience weren’t shown to him much growing up, so when it was, it was deeply appreciated. Kazuya may seem apathetic, but deep down, forbearance and tenderness are never taken for granted. More often than not, someone with strong will and determination is loyal to whatever or whoever they believe in. It’s reassuring to know that someone has your back, especially when everyone who’s supposed to be close to you is actually out to tear you to pieces.

W = Wedding (How are they on the big day? How do they help plan it out? Are they emotional or stoic?)

On the outside, Kazuya would be his usual stern self. But on the inside, he'd be freaking out. Like holy hell, this is actually happening. He can't believe it. Kazuya will help with everything he can. Every part of a relationship is a team effort, and weddings are no different. He wants to shoulder the responsibility as much as he can and will ask for your input to make it perfect for both of you. Throughout the ceremony, Kazuya looks pretty composed on the outside. But on the inside, he is barely holding himself together. The sight of you alone has him weak in the knees.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

If you fall asleep on him, he'll gently scoop you up into his arms and carry you to bed. Sometimes, he’ll secretly hope that you fall asleep on him just so he can carry you. Other times, he’ll just do it regardless of whether you’re awake or not, and he won’t take no for an answer.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they can't stand, both in a partner and in general?)

He can't stand anyone who is oblivious and can't follow simple directions. His patience is not the greatest, so he'd get irritated easily with someone like that. He also can't stand whining. It's like nails on a chalkboard to him.

Z = Zzz (What are some sleep habits of theirs?)

Kazuya does not move at all when he sleeps. If you weren’t lying right next to him, you’d think he was dead. When he lies down, he always stays on his back and keeps his arms around you. Once he falls asleep, he stays exactly like that for the rest of the night. He doesn't snore, he doesn't talk in his sleep, he doesn't do anything. He just lays there until morning comes. He's a moderate sleeper, heavy enough so that he doesn't jolt at the slightest noise but light enough to awaken if you shake him.

Can you tell I love Kazuya? Hopefully, I made it clear enough 💜.

[wehaveimagineshere]

Ren, I really hope you don't mind me sending in another request so soon but I've read Girl Dad like 7 times and I'm still craving. I want more. I want Carlos with his newborn. I want him taking care of his girls and making breakfast in bed and bringing his wife the baby for group cuddles and shit. I crave the domestic fluff. I will take anything you throw at me it's all too good. You're too good. I'm feverish for your writing rn. I have such a soft spot for badass couples being soft with their little baby so youve really given me a blessing. >◇< ilysm please keep well and stay happy <33333

I don't mind more requests at all! <3 I'm so happy you liked Girl Dad! Omgggg this is so cuuttteee I'm so happy I get to write something so sugary sweet!!!

Thank you so much for being so sweet, every time I read this I get all smiley! <3

~*~*~

You wake up to the smell of bacon.

Yawning wide, you turn your head to Carlos' side of the bed, a little confused to find it empty. Running a hand across the sheets, you're even more surprised to find them cold.

Reaching out to your plugged in phone on the bedside table, you squint as it lights up. Okay, not too early. But, wait, your daughter usually starts crying before now.

Bolting up, your feet are almost on the carpet before your muddled brain slots the puzzle pieces together. Carlos' side of the bed is cold. Maybe he heard her before you did and calmed her so she didn't wake you up.

Why didn't he come back?

Rubbing a hand across your face, the decision to check or not is made for you. You hear Carlos saying something a moment before he opens the door, a plate of food in each hand.

"She's not going to believe how you helped with breakfast this morning."

And your daughter swaddled across his chest, who kicks her feet and giggles when she spots you.

"Hey, what are you doing awake?" Crossing the bedroom, he sets a plate full of bacon on the bedside table and uses his now free hand to swat at your thighs. "Get back in bed."

"What?" you ask, brain still muddled, tucking your feet back under the blankets.

"Our little girl here decided she wanted to make you breakfast in bed this morning." When you're leaning comfortably against the pillows, he sets the other plate onto your lap. Sunny side up eggs with toast greets your eyes, and your tummy grumbles a moment later.

Your little girl gurgles, arms doing a little wave.

Producing a fork, Carlos hands it to you before looking down to your girl. "Right. We have more dishes for you. Want pancakes next? Fruit? Bagel?"

At the mention of the bagel, your little one babbles.

"I agree, bagel sounds good." Making his way back to the kitchen, he throws over his shoulder, "I'll make sure it has cream cheese on it."

Blinking in surprise, you give yourself a moment to process before picking up a piece of bread and dipping it into the egg. You're only three bites in before Carlos returns with more plates, and it's not until the bed is almost full with all the dishes you own that Carlos leans against the wall opposite you, holding a strawberry shaped teether for your daughter to chew.

"What did I do?" you ask, setting aside an empty plate to pick up another. "To deserve all this, I mean?"

"Aside from popping this one out into the world?" He does a little shake, prompting your girl to kick her feet and giggle. "Maybe I just wanted to pamper my queen, ever think of that?"

You give him a curious look but keep eating until your stomach is full to bursting. When you go to get up to put the dishes up, Carlos swats your legs and hustles everything out, baby giving her commentary the entire time.

Still wondering if maybe there's a catch, you watch as Carlos unswaddles your girl and slides into his spot next to you, setting your daughter on her belly on his chest.

You slide up against his side, your hand resting against your girl's back. Her sleepy eyes drift to you, a small smile turning up her chubby cheeks.

"She's had a full morning helping me out in the kitchen." Carlos' voice rumbles through his chest, making her yawn and close her eyes. "She told me exactly how you like your pancakes."

"Did she now?"

"She did. Was very particular about it. If I made a mistake, I'd get an earful." Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he adds, "Just like someone else I know."

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"Yeah. I mean, genetics and all, right?"

"And what did she get from you, big guy?"

"My superior sense of humor."

Smiling wide, you slot your head between Carlos' shoulder and collarbone. From this angle, you can see your girl passed out, drool dribbling from her open mouth and onto your husband's shirt. Rubbing your thumb absentmindedly up and down her back, you ask Carlos, "So what's the plan now?"

"I dunno, I didn't think that far." A pause. "A nap?"

"A nap sounds good."

Squeezing you in a one armed hug, you hear Carlos hum in agreement. "Nap it is, then."

[osamucide]

sweet

we don’t need to say it to each other, sweet

wc: 1k

cw: gn!reader, soft!chuuya, alcohol, cigarettes, the tiniest bit suggestive, pure domestic fluff

reid: a little chuuya love because truth be told he is precious too. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

One of the easiest ways to break down his hardened exterior was with that nickname.

"Ginny," you called as the hall light flooded your living room with warmth. No sooner than it appeared did it leave, replaced by the shifting and rustling of shoes, a coat, a hat. The connected kitchen was dim with the stovetop light and nothing else. Your water was boiling. The smell of red sauce grew stronger the closer he padded toward you to wrap around your middle.

Either he was tired or the nickname had subdued him quickly enough because any typical grumbling about what an exhausting work day that was was foregone in favor of a soft, humming kiss to your shoulder. You decided you could turn away from your noodles for a moment.

"Ginny," you cooed again, tiptoeing in a half circle to face your lover. "Hi."

If Dazai was still around you'd never get away with that nickname as often as you did. Luckily, he was gone before he had enough time to taint it. It was derived, between both you and the brunette, from the constant poking-at of the color of his hair - ginger - but Chuuya would only let something like that fly if it was from you. (He found it endearing more than he 'let it fly', but you didn't have to know everything.)

It was true, he was tired, and if it weren't for the two empty glasses already in place at the table and the steam bubbling and popping behind you, Chuuya would've insisted you come lay down with him right now so he could dip into sleep amid a cathartic gripe about his day with your fingers in his hair. There were very few hypothetical circumstances, however, in which Chuuya Nakahara would turn down wine and Italian food, and coming home to his baby and a freshly-opened pack of Seven Stars set by the recently cleaned-out ashtray, tired as he may be, was not one of them.

Trapped in his embrace, you curled your arms around him and brought his head to your shoulder. Chuuya released a deep sigh into the side of your neck, closed his eyes, and let the tip of his nose pass along your jawline. You tilted in compliance, and one more "Ginny" left you, a whisper this time.

Chuuya punctuated the little moment with a kiss to your cheekbone. "I'll pour wine, yeah?"

A soft giggle left you; you undid the buckle securing the choker around his neck before tucking it in his pocket. "Yeah. S'almost done."

A little speaker stuttered out The Dark Side of the Moon - Chuuya was never a big fan of old American psychedelic rock or musical soundscapes before you, but here he was, lighting up to the clang of grimy change. After a little deliberation, he pulled a bottle of Lambrusco from the cabinet - the one specifically for alcohol and nothing else - and strode back to the table. On the way, he passed the sink where you were straining the pasta and tucked the cigarette between your waiting lips.

No sooner than he stepped away, you were following him, and "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around" begged into the space of the kitchen. Between each of your movements was a sizzling charge; suddenly, he felt more awake. The transfer of energy you blessed him with always took him by surprise. You were just placing the sauce pot on a trivet, he was just pouring wine, but it was a little magic dance. He found himself with the cigarette again. Stevie and Tom were fading out of the room, you were settling into your seat across from his, and the same lighter you both used for the smokes sparked up the candle at the center of the table. It was all a bit magic and horribly romantic, and so simple and so sensical, and he loved it. He did love coming home safe to you.

And over dinner, he watched you. You swayed side to side under his gaze and at the taste of your own creation. Smoke lingered. The sparkle of the wine died between your teeth, and you giggled more, much more, and Chuuya's chest was warm. Chuuya's face was warm and red and he almost forgot what he had been up to less than an hour before. Of course, the vino stole away his newfound verve. The longer he looked at you, the more his senses wanted to fall into bed with you and never leave. The longer you looked at him the same, the warmer he got. Late dinner, his pleasant little time loop. My very special one, he thought in time with Moe Tucker’s voice.

He hated to admit that when he stood the room was vibrating, but that's what three-plus glasses and the crushing softness of your eyes did to him. "After Hours" was a going-home song, after all, so he snuffed out the candle with his gloved fingers and let you pull him by the belt loops to your room, the speaker still droning be damned. You just wouldn't close the door, so it'd be a nice white noise to sink into the dark behind.

Soft synths and wavy guitars undressed him, spilled kisses down his neck; he breathed in the air, and it tasted like you. And you kissed him. And you kissed him and you kissed him until he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Ginny," you said one last time, not even a whisper but a feather-light musing into those fiery locks. "Ginny, I love you."

"I love you, sweetheart." Most notably, Chuuya's heart was warm, under both your palm and the thick comforter. His home was under your palm, he supposed. He would've given it more thought if the fatigue in his bones and the meal in his belly weren't lulling him to sleep, never mind the intoxicants (the wine and your touch). He slept, and he wanted to never leave.

[lunarwench]

For the Baldur's Gate 3 bloodweave crowd. Haven't shared this in multiple chapter updates. I'm on chapter 11 of my post-game slowburn longfic, and things are heating up. Do you like soft boys? Do you like longing and pining? Do you like characters falling in love with each other as their deepest most authentic selves? Do you like HAND HOLDING? HUGGING? SMOOCHING? AND MORE???? Then have I got the fic for you. Stay Though My Arms Shake (69179 words) by Lunarwench Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Astarion/Gale (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Post-Game: Baldur's Gate 3, Blood Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Domestic, oh my god they were roommates, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, Mentions of canonical trauma, Bloodweave, Resolved Sexual Tension, Making Out, Domestic Fluff, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Astarion's Past Abuse (Baldur's Gate), Soft Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate), Hopeless Romantics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Dissociation, Self-Esteem Issues, Minor Mention of Suicidal Tendencies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Slow Burn means SLOW BURN, the love is requited, they're just idiots Series: Part 2 of Stumble and Fall Summary:

The vampire's eyes are wide and round, full of amazement. They dart wildly around the sights below, as if trying to see everything at once. The lights of the city reflect upon his face, soft shadows dancing across his elegant features. The very tips of his fangs are visible from his parted lips.

The radiance of the city pales in comparison.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧

Two months after the brain falls, Baldur's Gate has picked up most of the pieces. The band of heroes that saved Faerûn has been there through most of it, helping the city back on its feet. But now it's time to move on. Old lives to get back to, families to return to. Gale is going back to his tower, back to Tara and the blessed quiet. Alone. Or, at least, that was the plan.

This is a story about falling in love.

(Now has fanart! End of chapter 6 and end of chapter 8)